


The Princess and the Tower

by LouderDreams



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, Canon Universe, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Kidnapping, Mild Blood, Miraculous Team, Needles, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Physical Abuse, Slightly Aged up, gabriel is a bad bad man, mild nudity, sort of mari!whump, there's comfort in there i swear, whoo boi this is gonna be a ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 76,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouderDreams/pseuds/LouderDreams
Summary: All it takes is one little mistake, one reckless little mistake, for Marinette to find herself in the tight clutches of Paris's long-feared supervillain. Everything quickly becomes backwards from there. The hero is suddenly the one needing to be saved. And the villain, the villain is winning.Villains aren't supposed to win.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 126
Kudos: 261





	1. Luck and Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this story contains some dark themes so please take warning with the tags, and I'll add more here and there as the story progresses. 
> 
> please note: there will not be any sexual violence 
> 
> in terms of continuity, this story follows canon through everything in s3 except the two finale eps (which I loved, just, a lot changed there lol)
> 
> with that said, enjoy!

“Ladybug! Ladybug! Over here!”

The sound of Alya’s excited voice reached Ladybug’s ears from somewhere in the midst of the crowd of people behind her, the crowd that had gathered in the streets of Paris to witness the finale of the latest akuma attack.

However, Ladybug did not turn around to respond to her friend’s call. No, at that moment, something else had already completely captured her attention.

The attack was already over, and the sun was well on its way to disappearing behind the tall buildings of the city, most of the daylight having already disappeared along with it. Though Ladybug paid no mind to the changing hue of the sky either. A few feet away from her, sat on a curb, was Hawk Moth’s latest victim. Some guy around their age who’d been upset about losing a basketball game or something. 

She didn’t know anymore about him than that. She’d never gotten the chance to.

Usually when she purified akumas and set everything back to normal, she and Chat Noir would use the remaining minutes of their transformations to answer a few quick questions for the Ladyblog, and then they’d help the akuma victim home if they needed it. 

This battle had turned out a little differently.

By the time she’d released her magic ladybugs to fly around the city and fix the damage, Chat Noir had already fled the scene. His ring had been down to the last paw pad when the fight had ended, and he’d blown her one quick kiss through the evening air before taking off across the rooftops, leaving Ladybug on her own in the aftermath of the attack.

She should have just gone over to Alya. She should have just answered her friend’s silly prying questions that always seemed to be more about her and her cat-eared partner rather than the actual akumas. She should have gone over to the guy who’d been akumatized. She should have asked for his name and told him, “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

But she didn’t.

As Ladybug watched the white butterfly flutter away into the sky, her body moved faster than her brain, and instead of tending to the scene around her, she thrust her yo-yo out into the air and leapt into the sky after the purified akuma. 

Maybe she did it because of the anger she felt towards Hawk Moth for interrupting the eighteenth birthday party she’d spent the last couple of weeks planning relentlessly for Alya. Maybe she did it because of the built-up frustration from never getting any closer to defeating Hawk Moth once and for all, even after all this time. Maybe it was the fact that she still had four spots left on her earrings, a rare occurrence after akuma battles. 

Or maybe it was because Chat Noir wasn’t here now to be the voice of reason and stop her. 

Maybe it was all of it. 

So for whatever reason it was, she found herself chasing after the white butterfly, following its random twists and turns across the city in what quickly turned into a high-speed chase over the rooftops. The fact that she even managed to stay on its trail at all was astounding. She refused to let this opportunity go to waste. So she followed the butterfly, keeping up with it only through sheer willpower and perhaps a sprinkle of luck. 

Or really, it must have been quite a heap of luck, because she ended up following it all the way back to its source. 

But they were delicate things, luck and magic. They could turn treasure into poison at just the slightest touch. They could turn disasters into miracles. And miracles into tragedies. 

Though only when they were not used carefully, that was. When the slightest touch was a reckless one.

Ladybug was not concerned with such rules now. 

As she watched the white butterfly enter through the large circular window of a random building and disappear into the swarm of butterflies inside, she landed down on the roof beside the window, just barely keeping out of view of the glass. Her surroundings went completely unnoticed by her. All of her attention was captured by the figure of a man she could see on the floor below. Even from just the few times she’d encountered Hawk Moth face to face in the past, she was able to recognize his silhouette instantly, and seeing it immediately struck her fight or flight. And Ladybug was so done with running from this monster. 

If Chat had been there with her, he probably would have reminded her that she had barely two minutes left before her transformation wore off completely. Or he would have suggested that maybe it might be wise to come up with some sort of plan rather than just barging in. 

At the very least, he would have forbidden her from going in alone.

But Ladybug’s eyes were locked on her target in the circular room below, and the faint sound of maniacal laughter reached her ears, distracting her from the second to last warning beep of her miraculous. Her fury was nearly blinding her. She was ready to end this. 

Without wasting another second, she swung herself down into the room through the small opening at the center of the window with both of her feet aimed directly at Hawk Moth’s unsuspecting chest, knocking him down to the floor with a powerful blow.

The moment he fell onto his back, she dropped to the ground and shot out her yo-yo again at lightning speed, using the unbreakable string to restrain his arms at his sides while she stomped one foot onto his chest and ripped the Butterfly Miraculous from the base of his neck. 

Her precision had been perfect. The element of surprise had been completely in her favor. 

She had successfully recovered the stolen Butterfly Miraculous. 

Hawk Moth snarled up at her from where she had him trapped on the floor. “ _Ladybug.”_

“It’s over, Hawk Moth,” she growled back. “You’re finish—” Her words cut off as recognition set in, and she realized that the man beneath her foot was not the supervillain of Paris.

He was Adrien Agreste’s father. 

He was Gabriel Agreste _._

No, this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. Adrien was her classmate, her crush. Her friend. He was the personification of sunshine itself. And his father was a world-famous fashion designer, the head of the Gabriel brand, not...not _Hawk Moth_. 

“No,” she breathed. “You...You can’t be...”

Though in her few moments of hesitation, her grip on her yo-yo must have faltered, because the next thing she knew, the man beneath her was striking the back of her knee, sending her stumbling backwards, and before she had even a chance to find her footing, he was already surging forward and shoving her down to the ground. 

The brooch in her hand went skidding across the stone floor as her palm opened on instinct to try and brace her fall. 

“No, Ladybug,” Gabriel bit out as she made impact with the ground. “It’s over for _you._ ” He shoved her onto her back, and his hands grabbed at her forearms while his knee struck her side, never letting her have even a moment to collect herself. 

“Get off!” she yelled. 

Gabriel ignored her, only climbing more fully on top of her, his knee digging into her stomach. 

She didn’t feel any pain. Thankfully her suit’s magic protected her from injury, and so she immediately retaliated, trying to throw a punch at him. But his grip around her forearms was strong. He was able to deter her fists from coming into contact with any part of him. 

Ladybug fought against his hold, her legs flailing, trying to kick him in any way that she could. But he was using his own bodyweight to pin her down against the stone. Even with her enhanced strength, this man was still nearly twice as big as her and a whole head taller. She couldn’t even fling her yo-yo out at him, because the hand that she’d been holding it in was now empty. She must have dropped it too during her fall. 

So she struggled and squirmed. She tried to roll out from under him. She spat in his face. 

But no matter what she did, she couldn’t get out from his hold. She was trapped.

“Get off of me!” she shrieked.

“Give me your miraculous!”

“No! Let me go!” 

It was clear that the only thing still stopping him from taking the two little jewels out of her ears for himself, was the fact that he was already using both of his hands to restrain her arms. The only thing Ladybug could now do to protect her miraculous, was to keep struggling like her life depended on it. And who knew, maybe it did. This man was pure evil, he could go to any length to get the miraculous from her. 

Suddenly a series of fast, high-pitched beeps rang out in her ears, and a new wave of terror flooded through her at the sound. A terror far more awful than any she had ever experienced before in her life. 

There wasn’t any more time to waste. She needed to get away. Now. 

As the pink light of her detransformation engulfed her, she shrieked even louder and thrashed even harder. Within a few seconds, Marinette's left arm was freed from Gabriel's fingers, and she instantly threw a hooked punch at his nose. 

He somehow dodged his head to the side in time though, and her fist collided with nothing but air. But it didn’t matter if she missed. Her hand was still free. She could still get away. 

Immediately she brought her hand back for another punch, and as she pushed her fist out forward again, Gabriel’s hand came down on the side of her neck. At first she thought he was trying to choke her, but instead of the feeling of being suffocated, Marinette realized she could only feel a small sharp pain. Like how it felt when a nurse gave her a shot in her arm. 

The pain of a needle. 

Her eyes blew wide and she thrust her free arm out, screaming, trying to claw at Gabriel, trying to push him away. But stars were quickly entering her vision, and with every passing second, fighting became harder and harder. 

There was only one thing, one person, Marinette could think about now as her consciousness began to escape her. 

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she used the last of her strength to cry out one final word. Her only hope left for getting away. 

“ _Chat!_ ”

And then the stars took over her vision completely, and the world went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip mari 2k20 💔
> 
> i'm a bit of a busy bee so updates might be a little sporadic lol, apologies in advance
> 
> but ty for reading! let's get marinette some milk 👏👏


	2. The Yellow Room

The sounds of the early morning filled Chat Noir’s ears as he leapt over the city rooftops, heading back towards his bedroom. Every one of his senses was focused. His sharp eyes scanned the streets below, and his ears strained with their enhanced hearing, picking up wisps of every conversation he passed by. 

When he finally reached his room, he let his transformation drop as soon as he landed down on the floor, wasting no time in plopping down at his desk chair and waking up his computer. 

“Geez kid, it’s already six in the morning,” Plagg’s tired voice called from over by Adrien's bed. “Aren’t you going to sleep at all?” 

Adrien didn’t bother turning to look at his kwami, his attention was focused solely on the computer screen in front of him. “There’s no time for that, Plagg. Marinette’s _missing_.” 

He scrolled through his messages from every social media he had before checking his phone again for texts, even though he’d taken it with him while patrolling the night. There were no new texts since his last one to Nino half an hour ago. And he found now that there was no useful information in any of his DMs. 

No one had seen a trace of Marinette since Alya’s birthday party last night. 

“Doesn’t she like, disappear randomly all the time though?” Plagg asked through a mouthful of Camembert, the unfortunate stench reaching Adrien at his desk. 

Adrien leaned forward onto his elbows, running his hands through his hair. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but she always says something first. She doesn’t just leave totally unannounced. She’s usually just...a busy person. Like me.”

He glanced over to his kwami who was sprawled out on a pillow with cheese in his hand, and the tiny creature only raised his eyebrows at him. Or at least, if he had eyebrows, Adrien was pretty sure they would be raised right now. 

“Okay, so maybe she does leave unannounced sometimes,” Adrien relented. “But she doesn’t disappear for this long. It’s been almost half a day, Plagg. That party was her golden project, she dragged me to ten different stores last week just to find the perfect balloons. There’s no way she would’ve just abandoned it.”

“I thought you loved being her ‘assistant balloon coordinator,’” Plagg snickered.

“Not the point.”

The kwami sighed dramatically from the bed, and Adrien chose to ignore him in favor of unlocking his phone to press on Marinette’s picture in his contacts, his foot tapping relentlessly as a dial tone rang out into the room. 

The call went directly to voicemail. Just like the previous twenty-eight ones. 

“Look kid, if you’re really worried about her, then maybe you should go see Master Fu.”

Adrien spun his chair to face the bed. “I don’t have time to train with Master Fu right now!”

“That’s not what I—”

“If anything, I need _Ladybug’s_ help. She knows who Marinette is. She could help us look for her.” 

...But Ladybug hadn’t transformed again yet since the akuma attack. Which was to be expected. There wasn’t any reason for her to be transformed now. Sure she knew who Marinette was, but she obviously didn’t know her in her civilian life like Adrien did. He’d sent a text to Ladybug's yo-yo at the start of his search, though really, she probably wouldn’t even learn of Marinette’s disappearance until she checked her yo-yo at their next patrol or the next akuma attack. 

Or until the police decided to take this seriously. 

Adrien wished more than anything that he could simply check the news and find that Marinette was perfectly alright and back in her home, but in reality, the police wouldn’t even consider her a missing person yet. She hadn’t been missing for long enough, they’d said. 

It was completely ridiculous. Missing was missing. If he hadn’t had superpowers that allowed him to search for her himself, Adrien would have surely lost his mind hours ago. 

“Adrien,” Plagg called, and his voice sounded more sincere now.

Adrien closed his eyes, humming his acknowledgement.

“If you won’t go see Master Fu, then at least take a nap,” the kwami implored. “You’ve got a photoshoot this afternoon, remember? Mr. Control-Freak is not gonna be happy if you show up with bags under your eyes.”

Adrien let out a sigh. He knew Plagg was right. His father would not like it if any of his friendships interfered with his beauty sleep, and an upset father was just about the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

“Alright,” he gave in, “I’ll take a nap. But only for thirty minutes. And if my phone goes off, I’m answering it.”

“Fine, fine,” his kwami said, waving around a piece of cheese in the air as though he were a king waving around a chalice.

With another sigh, Adrien pushed himself up out of his desk chair and flopped down onto his bed beside his kwami, not bothering to get under the covers or even change into actual pajamas. It was already a new day anyway. He would simply change into fresh clothes after a shower. 

As his head sunk into his pillow and his eyes fluttered shut, he found that the sound of Plagg munching his way through a box of Camembert was actually sort of comforting, as unbelievable as it may have seemed, and so with that as his lullaby, Adrien tried to ease his worrying heart long enough to doze off. 

It didn’t work. 

All he could think about were the events of yesterday evening, his mind replaying them over and over like a broken record. 

The party had been going great. Alya’s living room had been turned into a dance floor. The colored strobe lights had been killer. Nino’s beats had kept the party pumping non-stop. Even the neighbors complained, which Marinette had considered the ultimate sign of success and had cheered about the moment the neighbors were shut out the front door again. 

It had truly been the perfect party. Until the akuma attack. 

Because when everyone regrouped back at the Césaire’s apartment after the attack had been dealt with, they’d discovered that they were down a person. The party planner herself. 

Everyone had been confused. Alya had been distressed. There’d been no reason for Marinette to leave early. She hadn’t been upset, and neither Chloé or Lila had been invited, so they knew it wasn’t that. 

So they tried asking around the party, they called her parents, they texted her friends who weren’t even at the party. And that was when they realized that no one had seen Marinette after the attack at all. That was when Adrien’s stomach had really started to churn. 

Sure the attack had scattered the party for a bit, but Adrien knew for a fact that the akuma, The Baller, as he’d referred to himself, had never once tried to attack Marinette directly with his endless supply of exploding basketballs. In fact, Marinette hadn’t been involved in the attack period. Adrien had seen her run off to hide when they first heard the distant thuds down the street, and then...that was it. No one had seen where she’d gone to. 

Something was terribly wrong. He didn’t know how he knew, but he _knew._ Call it superhero’s intuition. 

At that point back at the party, he, Alya, Nino, and most of their class decided to split up into groups and leave the apartment in search of Marinette. Adrien had even gotten his bodyguard to drive a few of them around to the nearby places they knew Marinette liked to frequent. And very surprisingly, even his father expressed concern. 

Well, not _concern_ exactly, but after a pleading phone call to his father, Adrien had been allowed to stay out for a little bit longer than originally planned in order to search for his friend.

Eventually though, the partygoers had to call it quits for the night, and Adrien had been hauled back to the mansion. So of course he’d gone right back out into the city to look for her, equipped this time with magic and claws. Not that it had done him any use though. He’d searched all night and gotten nowhere. Honestly, how did Plagg expect him to sleep at all when he was a superhero who was not doing any saving?

But still, as he laid now on his bed, Adrien forced himself to keep his eyes closed. He had to rest so that he could think clearly, so that he could find her. 

He was going to find her.   
  


❖❖❖

Marinette shot up in bed as her dream came to an end and her mind threw her back into consciousness. She closed her eyes again right away though, gulping down deep breaths of air through her wild panting, trying to calm the rapid pounding of her heart. 

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream...

It took a minute to calm her body down. The sweat on her face slowly cooled her flushed cheeks, and as it did, the choking anxiety dissipated from her chest. Only once she had calmed her breathing back down to normal, did she finally blink open her eyes. 

She didn’t understand what she was looking at though. The room around her was not her own. Her own room was pink, and her bed was up high on its own little loft. The room around her now was...pale yellow? And the bed she was currently sitting in was on the floor. 

Marinette didn’t recognize this room at all. 

Panic started to raise her heartbeat right back up, and she frantically looked around the bed for her kwami. 

“Tikki?” 

When no response came, she called louder. 

“Tikki!” 

Marinette flung the yellow floral-patterned comforter off of herself and turned around to look through the sheets and pillows, tossing them all onto the floor in a messy heap of white fabric as she searched for her tiny companion. 

But her kwami was nowhere to be found. And she couldn’t find her purse or her phone either, neither on the bed, nor on the empty wooden nightstands beside it. All she found on this foreign mattress in this foreign room, was the horrible realization that with every movement she made, a light clinking rattle was made as well. 

Daring to look down at her wrists, she saw what she had not wanted to see before. 

“No,” she whispered, holding both of her shaking hands out in front of herself to take in the metal manacles fastened around each of her wrists. They were not linked together, letting her have complete movement of her arms, however each of the cuffs was attached to its own long metal chain that pooled on the floor before disappearing under the bed, like something straight out of a medieval dungeon. 

Except the dungeon here, was a disturbingly cheery yellow bedroom. And instead of tattered clothes like that of a prisoner, Marinette was still wearing the dress she’d worn to Alya’s party. The rose pink one she’d made from a soft cotton fabric that ended just above her knees, with short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. It was a piece she’d been proud of. And it was the last thing she wanted to be wearing in a fight. Or be chained to a floor in.

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. It was just—”

A dull ache throbbed on the left side of her neck, and her hands flew to her earlobes. Her bare, earringless, miraculous-less earlobes. 

It wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory.

It was a nightmare.

“ _Tikki!_ ” she shouted, but she knew the kwami would not be able to hear her. Tikki was gone. 

Marinette tried to hold back tears as she pried at the manacles. Each one had a tiny keyhole, but she didn’t have anything remotely small enough to try and pick it with. Her hair was still down as she’d worn it to Alya’s party, leaving her without even a mere bobby pin. So she pulled at the manacles until her fingers hurt, and even then she kept going. 

As she worked on them, she noticed they were lined inside with a thin layer of something, like...soft leather? It stopped the metal from digging into her skin, but it also served to keep the tight manacles snug against her wrists. 

“What the hell,” she muttered.

When her fingers turned thoroughly red and blotchy from prying at the metal, and one of her nails was chipped, she realized that she was not going to be able to get these off with her bare hands. The next best thing to do then was to try at the other end, wherever the chains disappeared under the bed to. 

She scrambled off of the mattress, her bare feet landing on a polished hardwood floor—though she had definitely been wearing shoes before she transformed for the akuma attack. New heels that she’d bought for the party. 

Marinette closed her eyes. 

It didn’t matter. They were just shoes. She could get new ones. And she could get a new phone. And she could make a new purse. The only thing that mattered right now was getting out of here as fast as possible and finding her miraculous. 

Dropping to her hands and knees, Marinette focused on keeping her breathing steady as she reached under the wooden bed frame. However, it didn’t take long to discover that her hand barely fit through the tiny gap between the frame and the floor. And that the manacle around her wrist didn’t fit under at all. 

She tried fitting her other hand under instead, even though she knew the result wouldn’t be any different. She had to try. Just in case. 

When she couldn’t fit that hand past the manacle either, she tugged on the end of one of the chains to see if she could simply pull it out from wherever it ended under the bed. 

But the chain didn’t budge, as if it were cemented into the floor. So she tried pulling on the other one. Of course, that didn’t work either, and frustration flashed through her. She threw the chain away from herself, pounding the side of her fist down against the floor. 

She wouldn’t be able to get anywhere like this. 

Sitting back on her heels, she rubbed her palms into her eyes, trying to prevent her tears from falling while a whimper escaped her lips. She just needed to think. With or without her earrings, she was still Ladybug, the master of coming up with plans on the spot. Now she just needed a new plan. She just needed to _think._

Marinette took in a couple more deep breaths before an idea sparked in her mind.

If she couldn’t reach under the bed, then she just needed to move the bed. 

Springing up to her feet, she shoved on the side of the bed with both hands in an attempt to scoot it down along the wall. It was a large bed, most likely a king size, so that meant it was heavy. But Marinette was a strong girl. She pushed on it with all of her strength, grunting as she strained her arms and braced her feet against the floor. 

The bed didn’t move a single inch. 

So she tried lifting it up next. 

She squatted down, slipping her fingers under the small gap between the frame and the floor and pulling up. Yet the bed still remained exactly where it was. 

“Damn it _,_ ” she panted, standing back up to plant her hands down on the mattress while she caught her breath. 

Upon further inspection of the bed frame, she found that the legs were bolted into the floor, and the headboard to the wall. It was no wonder she couldn’t move it. But whatever. Onto the next plan. If she couldn’t take off the chains right now, then she needed to work with what she could control. And right now that would be...analyzing her surroundings. 

Up until now, Marinette had been too focused on the chains to really pay any attention to the rest of the room, and now that she took a moment to do so, she noticed it was actually quite large for a bedroom, easily four times the size of her own. Although considering how big this room was, it was mostly empty. 

The bed was tucked back in a corner with a few feet between the side of the mattress and the wall, allowing her to walk around all sides of it except for the headboard, which was, as she had already discovered, bolted into the back wall. There really wasn’t much other furniture in the room at all, save for the small pair of wooden nightstands, and a matching wooden dresser stood against the wall near the bed. Towards the center of the room there was a single lime green couch, faced forward like the bed, and in front of it, sat a large television on a stand. 

And that was it. There was nothing else. The entire far side of the room beyond the couch was completely bare. All of the walls were bare. Everything was bare. And there was way, way too much yellow. 

There were however, two doors in the room. One on each of the side walls. Both white. 

The door closest to her was right beside the dresser. 

Marinette rushed over to it, making the long chains attached to her wrists rattle against the floor along the way. The moment she reached the door handle, she twisted it and pulled the door open without even stopping to consider that perhaps she should be wary of what she might find behind it. 

What she found though, was simply a bathroom. A completely ordinary bathroom. Albeit, a graciously sized one. She didn’t waste time gawking at how shiny the bathtub was though. Her gaze quickly roamed over the room, looking for anything useful, and landed on the sink counter. The counter was mostly bare as well, with only a bar of soap by the faucet, and a new-looking toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. And like most other bathrooms Marinette had encountered before, there were drawers under the sink. Drawers that might actually contain something, anything, she could use to break off the chains. 

She made a beeline for them, letting out a breath of relief as the chains’ length allowed her to reach the drawers inside the bathroom easily. Though all too soon her heart plummeted in her chest as she found that every single drawer was completely empty. 

Marinette slammed the last one shut with much more force than was necessary before racing out of the bathroom to try the parallel door across the bedroom. It was the only other possible way out of here.

It had to be the way out of here. 

But if it was, she wouldn’t know. Because as soon as she reached the end of the stupid lime green couch at the center of this stupid room, her chains reached their limit, and she was yanked back to the floor. 

She got up immediately, tugging against the chains, her shoulders stinging from the stress. 

And just like everything else she’d tried so far, it was no use. 

“ _Chat!_ ” she screamed. 

And that too, was no use. 

She screamed for him anyway, calling out his name over and over. She didn’t care if Chat saw her without her mask, that was the least of her worries right now. She just needed to get out of here—wherever “here” even was—before Hawk Moth came back.

Marinette only stopped calling for her partner when it dawned on her that there was one more possible way out of here she hadn’t tried yet. The windows. 

There were two small square windows in the room, each lined with yellow drapes, their color a few shades darker than the pale yellow hue of the walls. Both of the windows were on the front wall of the room. One was lined directly in front of the bed, and the other was on the empty half of the room, the half she couldn’t reach. 

Bed window it was then. 

She ran over to it, searching for any sort of lock or way to open it, though she wasn’t exactly surprised to find that it was completely sealed closed, all edges of its frame secured into the wall surrounding it.

She pounded on the thick glass, peering through to the outside world. Except, she couldn’t even see the outside world. All Marinette could see was a solid stone wall covered with ivy, rising high up above to somewhere out of her view. Looking down, she saw that in the few feet between the stone wall and the side of the building, there was a narrow pathway made of red brick, extending as far as she could see on either side of the window. Which really wasn’t very far. And the pathway had to be about three stories down below from where she was.

She banged her head forward against the window in dismay, instantly regretting it as it sparked a pounding headache throughout her head.

Only, one little bang shouldn’t make a headache like that. She must have had this headache the entire time, her adrenaline just must have been keeping her from noticing it. Though now that her attention was on it, she felt it in its entirety. And it hurt. But that didn’t matter right now.

She needed to keep going. She needed to break this window open. She didn’t know yet how she would free herself from the chains, or how she would get down the three-story drop, but she would wait to address those steps until she got to them. Right now she just needed to find something to break the window with. 

Either of the nightstands by the bed seemed like they could do the trick. 

Marinette went over to one of them and tried lifting it from the floor, only to be met with the same dilemma as when she’d tried to lift the bed. The nightstand was bolted to the floor. And she soon learned that so was the matching one on the other side of the bed.

So she tried pulling out the drawers from the wooden dresser instead. 

All of them were locked shut. 

She went back into the bathroom, going straight for the largest drawer under the sink counter. Finally, this one she was able to pull free from the cabinet with a hard yank, and as soon as it was in her hands, Marinette ran straight back to the window, throwing the loose drawer at the offending glass as hard as she possibly could. 

It didn’t even make a scratch on the window, let alone shatter it. Marinette tried again and again, swinging her whole body to hurdle the drawer against the window, but the only damage being done was to the poor drawer itself. 

Discarding the beat up drawer to the floor, she spun back to face the bedroom, searching around frantically for anything else she could try and use to break the window. 

The couch was bolted to the floor. The TV was bolted to its stand, and its stand was bolted to the floor. There was nothing else even in this room. Her breathing was out of control now. She was hyperventilating. And she didn’t even have so much as a paper bag to try and fix it. Never had she felt this alone before. Never had she been this scared. 

It hadn’t occurred to her until that very moment, but for the last three years she hadn’t spent any time by herself. Every hour of every day, she had Tikki by her side, and when Tikki disappeared into her earrings, she had Chat with her. 

She’d always had one or the other. 

Until now. Until her ridiculous, idiotic impulse to chase after that godforsaken akuma. 

Now she had neither of them, and she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to breathe. She didn’t even know how long she’d been unconscious, or what time it was, or what day. 

Her head snapped towards the TV. 

The news would tell her. The news would tell her how long she’d been out, and it would certainly fill her in on any chaos Hawk Moth had caused with her earrings in that time. 

She would be able to find out if Chat was okay. And God, she needed to know that he was okay.

There wasn’t a remote for the TV, at least not here in the room, but the couple of thick wires that disappeared into the floor gave Marinette hope that it might still actually be connected to live channels. She turned it on the old-fashioned way, pressing the power button on the corner below the screen, and as she watched the screen light up and some annoying commercial begin to play, her stomach burst with even more nerves. She had never been more glad to be watching a commercial, but she was scared at what she might find when she got to the news. 

But she had to know. 

This television was a bit clunky, clearly an older model, and so thankfully it also had up and down buttons to search through the channels directly. Marinette scrolled down as quickly as her shaking thumb would let her, watching the numbers in the upper left corner of the screen decrease until she hit the first of the news channels. Luckily, being who she was, she’d already memorized the channel numbers of every news station in Paris. 

The screen in front of her turned black as she settled on channel, and she clenched her hands into fists, trying not to scream as she waited for the old television to catch up with her high-speed scrolling and just load the channel already. 

She waited for thirty excruciating seconds. But the screen stayed black. 

The only thing that appeared was a small blue text box.

_This channel had been blocked by Parental Controls. To unlock this channel, please go to Settings and enter your Parental Controls password._

Marinette shoved her hands into her hair, gripping harshly and tugging against her scalp. “Seriously!?” She flipped to the next news channel, and then the next, trying every single news channel there was to possibly try. Yet the same words appeared every time. 

When the last of the news channels refused to load, she screamed out in utter frustration, letting her right fist fly at the ugly blue text box that relentlessly mocked her. 

...And her hand went straight through the screen. 

For a few seconds she simply stared at it in disbelief, her mouth hanging open in a soundless gape while her brain tried to comprehend what she had just done. The large screen was mostly still in tact, but her hand had created a hole in the glass with jagged shards digging into her skin where her fist disappeared into the TV. 

She didn’t—She didn’t mean to. She was just—just _mad_. 

Silent tears fell down onto her cheeks as she closed her eyes, her breaths heavy and ragged. Slowly, she started pulling her hand out from the hole she’d made, though as soon as she tried to move it, pain seared through her knuckles, shooting up her arm. 

Marinette bit down on her lip, holding back both the scream and the sob that wanted to escape her mouth at the pain. Her headache was still throbbing. The left side of her neck still ached from the needle puncture. And now her hand was stuck in glass. 

Getting it out was going to hurt, and clearly going slowly only prolonged her pain, preventing her from being able to take it all the way out. Her only option was to pull it out in one go—as if she were ripping off a band-aid. Maybe it would cut up her hand even more do it that way, but if she didn’t do it, she’d never get it out. 

So Marinette squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to steady her breath as much as she could. She ignored the pain in her head and her neck. And then with a loud grunt, she yanked her hand back to herself. 

It took a few moments for the pain to hit her in full force, the bitter stench of blood striking her nose as it did. Marinette let herself sink back onto the floor, cradling her torn, bleeding hand to her chest, trying to avoid sitting on any of the tiny pieces of shattered glass. With every movement she made, she winced. 

She was so stupid. She couldn’t just go around punching things when she didn’t have Tikki’s power to protect her. Only Ladybug could go around punching things without fear of getting hurt. And Marinette was not Ladybug. Not without the earrings. 

She’d thought she was. She’d thought she could still find a way to escape on her own. But clearly that had been nothing more than wishful thinking. There wasn’t anything she could come up with on her own that could possibly replace the magic of a real Lucky Charm. 

All Marinette could do was cry on the floor, and pray that Chat Noir would come save her. 

She didn’t even understand why she was here in the first place. Hawk Moth—no, _Gabriel Agreste_ , had already stolen her earrings. He shouldn’t have any business with her now. If anything, he should be going after Chat since his proclaimed goal was to steal both of their miraculous and obtain the “ultimate power”, the power to make any one wish come true. 

So Marinette didn’t understand why he had chained her to the floor of some random bedroom with no way out. 

And she really wasn’t sure she wanted to know. 

Although, Gabriel wasn’t here now. Maybe he’d just left her to die somewhere where no one would find her. This room obviously wasn’t any part of the Agreste Mansion. She knew for a fact that the mansion didn’t have any stone walls on its property as tall as the one outside the window here. The Agreste Mansion was a spacious estate. A three-plus story stone wall would have been a little obvious if it were there. And all the walls surrounding the mansion were made of those giant beige bricks anyway, the ones she’d tried to climb on occasion. They weren’t made of solid grey stone like the wall outside this room. 

Bringing up her uninjured hand to wipe her cheeks through her sobs, Marinette took her mind back to when she’d been chasing the butterfly, trying to remember what part of the city it had taken her to. She’d been traveling so fast though, and all of her focus had been occupied with maintaining visual on the butterfly, not the buildings around it. 

She did, however, remember what the building Hawk Moth’s lair had been in looked like, with its large circular window and all. But as to whether there’d been a stone wall surrounding it or not, she didn’t have a clue. 

A painful throb from her neck pulled her attention away from her thoughts. How hard had he stabbed her with the needle to make it hurt this much? And why hadn’t she seen anything noticeably wrong with her neck when she was in the bathroom? 

It was only right then that Marinette realized what had been off about the bathroom. 

It had no mirror. 

Her fingertips trailed down from her tear-soaked cheek, trying to gauge how bad the damage to her neck was. The only thing she could feel though, was a small bandage over where the pain was centered. 

How fucking thoughtful of him. Bandaging a wound he made himself. 

It was enraging.

God she was so scared. Would Chat even notice she was gone? Their next scheduled patrol wasn’t for another two days. Or rather, two days from whenever she’d lost consciousness. 

From the sunlight that currently squeezed between the stone wall and the building, she could tell it was daytime at the moment. But the sun had been setting when she’d been in pursuit of the akuma. 

It would probably take Chat until their patrol, whenever it was from now, to realize she was missing. 

Her parents would’ve noticed on the first day though. And Alya. Alya would have noticed that she’d never returned to the party. Marinette would give anything to be with them right now, to be laying on the couch with her best friend while she ranted about the latest update on the Ladyblog. Or to be squished in one of her dad’s bear hugs while her mom laughed and kissed her forehead. 

She would never complain about her parents’ smothering ever, ever again.

She didn’t know how long it would be until she saw them again. If she ever even did. She wasn’t trying to be pessimistic about her situation, but she had to face the reality. Hawk Moth was an absolute monster of a man. As long as Marinette was chained here, she didn’t know what would happen. Of course, she wouldn’t go down without a fight, but without her miraculous, she was realizing that her ability to put up a strong enough fight had gone down the drain. 

And apart from her own safety, she was also scared to death for Adrien. Even though she had never gathered the courage to confess her crush to him, she had actually become good friends with him over the years. And she knew that he was not exactly fond of his father. 

To Adrien, his father was a cold, cruel person who micromanaged his life, while rarely even taking the time to see him in person unless it was critical for work. 

Now Marinette understood just how cruel Adrien’s father really was. 

She wiped at her cheeks again, the pain in her right hand seeming to ever gradually increase as she hugged it to her chest, dripping blood all over the dress she’d worked so hard to make. 

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to fix her hand. She just wanted all of the pain to stop. She just wanted her parents, and Tikki, and Alya, and Chat’s silly puns that she always made fun of even though she secretly adored them. 

If she ever saw Chat again, if he found her and rescued her before Gabriel had his way with her first, she swore she would tell him how funny his jokes really were, just so she could see his green eyes sparkle the way they did whenever she praised him. 

More than anything else in that moment, she just wanted Chat. 

As time passed, Marinette's sobs calmed down to snivels, and she found herself whispering her partner’s name like a mantra, mixing the single word with “I’m sorry” and “Please help me”.

She didn’t know how long she stayed on the floor like that. Maybe minutes, maybe an hour. Maybe more. She just sat there and cried and regretted and apologized until eventually the clicking sound of a lock being turned reached her ears. 

The sound had come from the empty side of the room. The side she couldn’t reach. 

Marinette raised her head up in confusion for only a moment before she scrambled to her feet, glaring daggers at the door, already knowing full well who she would find behind it. 


	3. The Beast

The door across the room opened inward and a sharply dressed Gabriel Agreste stepped wordlessly inside, shutting the door behind himself with a complete lack of emotion on his face.

Marinette watched him silently in utter disgust for a few moments before trying to lunge at him, not caring if it was the wisest move in her current condition or not. But she was held back by the manacles around her wrists, and Gabriel stayed put in front of the door, standing easily a good ten feet out of her reach as he simply stared down at her, his posture perfectly straight, and his hands folded behind his back. 

He wasn’t wearing her earrings. Marinette couldn’t say she was surprised. He wouldn’t be so careless as to dangle her miraculous right in front of her.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” she shouted, fighting against the limit of her chains.

One of Gabriel's eyebrows quirked upwards, and the faintest hint of amusement flashed in his ice cold eyes behind his glasses. “Good morning to you as well, Marinette.”

She felt like a wild animal caught in a trap. Her chest was heaving, and her teeth were bared. Her fingers were ready to claw the smugness right out of his voice.

She may have been dressed to play the part of a princess locked in a tower, what with her pink dress and missing shoes, but in that moment, she more resembled a beast. 

And she couldn’t care less. 

If it took a beast to kill a monster, then so be it. 

“Where am I! Where are my earrings!” she demanded. 

Gabriel turned his head towards the window nearest to him, regarding it as though he were looking out over a wide view instead of at a solid wall. “Why, you’re in Paris, of course.”

Unbelievable. _Obviously_ they were still in Paris. That’s where the other miraculous were. Even if he’d already taken hers, Marinette knew Gabriel would still be after the others. He wouldn’t stray from them. 

But Paris was a huge city with millions of people under its sky. This room they were in could be just about anywhere.

“Yeah,” she bit out. “ _Where_ in Paris.”

His eyes turned back to her as if that were the dumbest question he’d ever heard. 

“...A bedroom?” he answered.

It made her want to scream. 

But she forced herself to keep it in. Clearly Gabriel was only trying to provoke her by feigning such indifference, and she was not about to give him anything he wanted. She was not going to lose control. 

So instead of screaming, Marinette took deep breaths, her left fist shaking from anger at her side where it pulled against its chain, and in a low voice, dripping with venom, she asked, “ _Whose_ bedroom.”

Gabriel frowned. “Yours. Was that not obvious?”

This time it was Marinette’s turn to glower at him like he was a total idiot. She could only pray that her expression masked the spikes of fear his words drove into her. 

“This is _not_ my bedroom.”

“It is now.” His mouth slowly crept into a subtle smirk, and Marinette did not like the implication of those words one bit. That he didn’t intend on letting her leave. 

For a few moments, she could do nothing but grimace across the room at him. 

This man was insane. He was actually insane. Not that she didn’t already know that Hawk Moth was insane, but seeing this from _Gabriel Agreste_ was just mind-boggling. With every second that passed, the fear that he drove into her became slightly more difficult to hide from her face. 

“You can’t just kidnap people and put them in chains like it’s the freaking sixteenth century!” she snapped.

“Kidnap?” Gabriel echoed, and that horribly fake ignorance in his voice made Marinette want to burst into flames. “As I recall, you entered my lair on your own accord.” 

Her jaw dropped as she sneered at him. “I wasn’t planning on _sticking around_.”

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows in faux sympathy. “That’s most unfortunate then. You’ll be staying quite a while, I’m afraid.” 

It took a steady effort for Marinette to keep down the bile that wanted to rise up in her throat. 

She didn’t understand how this man could possibly be the same person that she’d known to be Adrien’s father. She’d met him before. She’d been over to the mansion to hang out with Adrien plenty of times. She’d even designed pieces for some of Gabriel’s fashion shows. She hadn’t exactly met with him face to face too often, he was a “busy” man, but even so, he had more or less become her mentor in the world of fashion.

And in all of those encounters, he’d been nothing but a quiet, stern man of very few words. A perfectionist in the art of ignoring his son.

The man standing before her now was completely different. This man was a trickster. A warped soul who enjoyed striking fear into her. Into the whole of Paris. Marinette didn’t know what to expect of him now. Even after all these years of his villainy, she’d very rarely ever fought him hand to hand. He always hid behind akumas, letting innocent citizens do the dirty work for him. And so now she was left with a man who was neither the father she’d thought he was, nor a villain she knew enough about to be able to predict his next move. 

It was terrifying, not knowing what to expect. 

But she couldn’t let that fear show. So with her bare feet planted on the floor in a stance ready to fight, she took a deep, shaky breath, centering herself as much was possible to center oneself when standing before a monster.

“Why am I here,” she asked in a low, dangerous voice that quivered despite how much she willed it not to. “You already have my miraculous, so what do you want from me?”

Gabriel’s expression fell back into that cold, hard gaze of his, void of emotion. “I don’t want anything from you,” he said in a serious tone. “Well, there’s information I’d like to get from you of course, but that’s not why you’re here.”

“Then why!” 

“Because you know my identity, and therefore you mustn’t be allowed back into the world. It’s simple, really.”

Marinette gawked at him. _“That’s_ what this is about? Look, I won’t—I won’t tell anyone who you are, okay? Just let me go.”

The faux sympathy returned to his features, and he gazed upon her solemnly. “You’re a bad liar, Marinette.”

All at once, an encore of her tears from earlier began to prick at her eyes, and it took everything she had in her to hold them back. She couldn’t cry now. Not in front of Hawk Moth.

“You’re a coward,” she growled through gritted teeth. 

“No, not a coward," he said calmly, adjusting his ascot tie, drawing Marinette’s attention to it. He might not have been wearing her earrings, but there was a very big chance that the Butterfly Miraculous was hiding behind his tie at that very moment. “I’m simply careful,” he finished. “I’m well aware that had you been allowed to leave, you would have gone straight to that pet cat of yours. And likely to the Guardian of the Miraculous as well. You might’ve even gone to my son with such information, and we really can’t have that, now can we?”

He was right, of course. The first thing Marinette was going to do when she got out of here was go directly to Master Fu. There she would be lent another miraculous, and this time she would gather up her entire team of heroes so that together they could plan a mission to take back both the Butterfly and the Ladybug Miraculous. 

She would save Tikki and Nooroo. And she would send Gabriel to the worst of whatever prison had to offer. 

But Gabriel wasn’t stupid. He had already come to this exact conclusion himself. So of course he wasn’t keen on letting her leave. As to just how far he would go to keep her quiet though, she didn’t know, and her bottom lip started to tremble now as the gravity of the situation sunk in even deeper.

“A-Are you...” she tried asking, but she choked on her words, unable to finish the question as one of her tears escaped her barricade and fell down onto her cheek. She didn’t so much as blink as it crawled down across her skin. “Are you going to kill me?” 

Surprise overtook Gabriel’s features, and he looked genuinely taken aback by her question. It was the first honest reaction she seemed to have gotten from him yet.

“Kill you?” he echoed in bewilderment. “Marinette, I am many things, but a _child murderer_ is not one of them. For Christ’s sake.”

Marinette didn’t know what to make of that answer though. He didn’t seem to be lying, but he also went around akumatizing literal babies on the daily without any remorse. His moral alignment was more than just a little unstable. And then of course, there was the time that he really had killed her. Indirectly, perhaps, but that didn’t make a difference. 

Although the timeline was no longer their own, Marinette vividly remembered when she had been brought to the future to save Chat Noir—temporarily turned Chat Blanc—from an akuma that had taken hold of him. She hadn’t known the details of what transpired before the attack, and she never dared to learn, but she very clearly remembered arriving in that future only to find that the entire city had been drowned, all of its citizens drowned along with it. 

She remembered finding her own body in the water. How it had crumbled away into nothing but ash the moment she touched its cheek. 

And it was all because of the horrible magic that Hawk Moth had forced onto Chat.

It didn’t matter if the Hawk Moth standing before her now didn’t know of that timeline, it was still his doing, and he was still just as dangerous. Like hell he didn’t murder children. He’d murdered everyone. 

Even just thinking about it sparked anger in her chest, driving away her moment of weakness.

“Oh, is that what you put in your Tinder bio?” she snarked before holding up her left hand to make mocking quotation marks in the air with her fingers. “‘Hi, I’m Paris’s number one terrorist, but don’t worry, I draw the line at killing kids.'” 

...Perhaps it was not the smartest move to be sassing him when she didn’t have any powers herself, but at this point she just didn’t care. 

Gabriel only rolled his eyes at her though, as if he were being bored to death by the conversation. And then for the first time since he’d entered the room, he stepped away from the door. And he walked directly towards her. 

Not a word came out of his mouth now, instead only the epitome of distaste radiated from his face. 

Marinette’s heartbeat picked up as he neared her, partly due to fear, but partly due to the fact that if he came close enough, all she would need to do was knock him off of his feet and take the brooch from behind his ascot tie. If she could get her hands on the miraculous, even for just a moment, then she could transform with Nooroo herself, and use the kwami’s power to free herself from the chains and get back her earrings. 

As the plan formed in her mind, confidence seeped back into her bones. Marinette stood in place at the limit of her chains, standing tall as Gabriel strode towards her. He probably expected her to shrink away like a coward, but she was not the coward here.

Gabriel continued walking right up until he was standing barely two feet away from her, then he stopped. His hands clasped behind his back once again, and he stared down at her hauntingly. 

She didn’t care. Her feet stayed planted in place, and she glared up defiantly, no other tears daring to drip down from her lashes. She was just about to say something else that she probably shouldn’t to a supervillain, but right as she opened her mouth to speak, Gabriel’s attention left her and instead turned to the room behind her. And the words died in her throat. 

She didn’t have to turn her head around to guess what he was looking at.

His gaze quickly roamed from the direction of where the sheets and pillows were strewn on the floor, to the single bashed up drawer discarded by the window, and then finally to the broken television, as if he were only just now noticing the fist-shaped hole in the screen, along with the pieces of shattered glass on the floor in front of it. As if he could have possibly missed any of it until now. 

“You punched the TV?” he asked, and although his face only betrayed annoyance, his voice almost sounded impressed. 

Marinette glared at him in irritation. “You blocked the news.” 

“...So you punched it?” 

“Yeah,” she bit out in a cold laugh. “And you’re next.”

Unfortunately for her though, her fists were probably not much of a threat to him when she only had one usable hand left and he was standing two feet out of its reach. But perhaps he hadn’t realized that her feet were not in the same predicament. With one good kick Marinette could send him to the floor, then her good fist would definitely be able to reach him. She just had to wait until she could catch him off guard.

Gabriel only frowned at her promise of a punch though, staring down at her with a look of disappointment equivalent to that of a parent picking up their child from the principal's office after they’d gotten into a fight for the third time that week. 

“You’re really quite the violent little girl, aren’t you.”

Marinette’s jaw fell open. “ _I’m_ violent? You’re a supervillain! You’re Hawk Moth! All you do is cause violence!”

“And yet,” Gabriel said, “it is not my hand that is currently dripping with blood, is it?” His gaze moved pointedly down to her red-stained fingers. “That looks like it hurts.” 

“Of course it hurts!” she snapped. 

Gabriel let out a small hum of acknowledgement. 

Honestly, he of all people had no right to be patronizing her.

But then his eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit as a calculating expression came over his face, and Marinette found herself involuntarily taking a step back. 

Whatever dots he was connecting in his head at that moment could not possibly be good news for her, not with the expression he wore now. Especially if it had anything to do with her injured hand. Her adrenaline had been keeping the pain throughout her body at bay ever since Gabriel had entered the room, but now her stinging aches and painful throbs were refusing to go ignored for any longer.

And Marinette was afraid.

She was pissed at Gabriel. She was more furious than she could ever recall being in her entire life. But she was in pain. And she was alone. And she was so, so afraid. 

Right now the man standing before her had every possible advantage in a fight. He was stronger than her, he was bigger than her, he had magic, he had _needles_ , and suddenly her plan of knocking him to the floor to take back his miraculous didn’t seem like such an easy feat.

If it hadn’t worked back in the lair, back when she’d been transformed, then what made her think that this time would be any different? She didn’t even know for sure if he was actually wearing the miraculous right now or not.

All Marinette could do here, under Gabriel's acute gaze, was take another step back away from him. 

“Just stop it,” she said quietly, her voice shaking. Ladybug was not a hero that resorted to violence if she didn’t need to. She wasn’t what Gabriel said she was. If she could get her opponent to put down their weapon, then she would always go for that option first. 

But she’d known that wouldn’t work this time. She’d tried talking sense into Hawk Moth in the past, but he was too far gone. He was too evil. 

And yet now, with her mask gone, she found herself with nothing else left to try.

“Stop this. Please. Just—Just stop.” Her voice came out weak, soaked with her fear, and she watched Gabriel’s expression remain perfectly still except for the slight raise of his eyebrows. If anything, he seemed intrigued. “You don’t have to do this,” Marinette nearly begged.

Gabriel let out a sigh, taking a step towards her. “It was always going to end this way, Ladybug. You and Chat Noir were never actually going to win, you must have known that.” With just his single step, he’d now made up the distance of her two taken back, and it took all of Marinette’s courage to not shrink back once again despite every ounce of her instinct screaming at her to get away from him. 

“You haven’t won,” she said, forcing her voice to even come out at all. “Chat’s still out there.”

“For now, perhaps,” Gabriel agreed. “Though soon I’ll have his miraculous too, and then he’ll be here with you. I do hope you don’t mind sharing the room together.” 

Marinette stayed standing in place, speechlessly confused, before a moment later he added, “Although, I assume you two are already...quite close.”

She chose to just completely ignore that last comment. “Th-That doesn’t even make sense. Chat doesn’t know who you are. You wouldn’t need to keep him here.”

“True,” Gabriel responded in near nonchalance. “But since I already have one of you, why not complete the set? Like a pair of trophies for my ultimate victory.”

This time Marinette took several steps back as fresh horror washed over her, her feet already moving before her brain could remember to look where she was stepping. After making it only a few feet away, she tripped on the slack from one of the chains under her feet, and fell backwards onto the hardwood floor with only her left arm to help her catch her fall. 

Her headache spiked as she hit the floor hard. 

Immediately she squeezed her eyes shut, bringing up both of her hands to caress her head as it pounded. She had to struggle to blink her eyes open through the pain. Though once she realized that Gabriel was already standing directly in front of her again, she almost wished she had just kept her eyes closed. He was towering above her like an animal observing its injured prey right before it went for the kill.

She needed to get out of here. But her headache barely allowed her to stagger back to her feet, let alone run away. So stagger she did, breathing through the pain as quietly as she could while she rose back up to her feet. 

“Tell me Chat Noir’s identity,” came Gabriel’s voice, his tone short and authoritative.

For a moment, Marinette was thrown off by the bluntness of the demand. She didn’t know Chat’s identity, and he didn’t know hers. That was kind of the number one rule between them. Especially with how powerful their two miraculous were in particular. But even if she had known his identity, the monster standing before her now was certainly the last person she would ever share it with. How could he possibly think that she would just tell him something like that? 

“Not on your life,” she bit out. 

Gabriel’s sharp gaze thinned, and he brought up a hand to adjust his glasses. “I do not like having to repeat myself, Marinette. I believe you should already know that.” 

Her nose scrunched in disgust as she regarded him, and her mouth remained perfectly shut. What was he going to do? Try and intimidate her into revealing information she didn’t even know with that “scary dad” act of his? 

“Tell me Chat Noir’s identity,” Gabriel said again, pronouncing the words slower this time, much more dangerously, “or your hand is going to hurt a lot more than it currently does.”

Marinette's eyebrows drew together across her forehead. “What are y—”

God she really needed to stop hesitating. Because in the time that her brain spent delaying the comprehension of his threat, Gabriel had already reached out to grab her injured hand, squeezing it in one of his own, making the tiny flecks of glass still stuck in her skin push down even deeper into the open cuts. 

Marinette screamed. 

“Stop! Stop! Let go!” Desperately she tried to pry off his fingers with her good hand, fresh tears streaming down onto her cheeks. But it was hard to focus through the pain, and Gabriel’s grip never faltered. 

“His name, Marinette. Tell me his name.” 

“I don’t know it!” she cried, pounding on his arm. “Let go!”

He only squeezed harder, and it felt like he was trying to crush her bones with his bare hand. Marinette’s knees almost immediately buckled beneath her, dropping her down to the floor. 

“You do know it,” Gabriel said sternly from where he stood above her. “Tell me what it is.”

“I don’t know! I swear!” Marinette's eyes were shut tightly now as she sobbed, trying to stay focused on how to form words through the sheering pain. “W-We don’t—We never told—” And that was as close to full sentences as she could get as the pain choked her.

She’d become too dependent on her miraculous’s protection. She’d forgotten what true pain really felt like. She’d let Tikki spoil her with magic, and now she was paying the price for her own carelessness. 

“You honestly expect me to believe that you never shared your identities with each other?” Gabriel's voice growled from above her, and if he hadn’t sounded mad before, he sure as hell did now. For a second, his grip started to loosen on her hand, but it was only so that he could crush it again a moment later, making Marinette scream out in another cry of pain. 

“I-It was f-for protection,” she forced out through her sobs. 

Gabriel only scoffed. “Well it doesn’t seem to be protecting you now, does it?” 

Marinette stayed sitting on the floor, just trying to breathe, just wishing this pain would end already. 

“ _Does_ it?” Gabriel repeated, and his other hand took a rough hold of her hair, forcing her head back to look up at him as he dug his fingers into her torn up skin even harder. 

She could only pant in ragged breaths for a minute before she was able to gather herself enough to respond.

“No,” she whispered. 

But it protected Chat. It didn’t matter what Gabriel did to her, he would never get what he wanted. She didn’t know her partner’s identity and that was that. Maybe Gabriel was right, maybe she couldn’t protect herself, but by God she could protect Chat. 

Gabriel’s voice rang out above her again, although this time he didn’t seem to be speaking to her. “Nathalie,” he called. And then the hand he had in her hair forced her head to the side, and this time as Marinette felt a needle sink into her skin, she was just grateful that at least in her sleep, the pain would stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw u don't have magical powers anymore so u gotta defeat the villain with creative insults 💀
> 
> lmao, ty for reading! i appreciate all the nice comments <3 i'm glad u guys are enjoying it ...though mari sure isn't, rip 😔🙏


	4. Overcast

The first thing Marinette noticed when she came to again, was that she was cold. Not like how it felt to be standing outside with a crisp breeze whipping against her skin though. Rather, this coldness seemed to come from within, protruding from her bones, seeping into the rest of her body. 

Slowly, she blinked her eyes open. It took a few moments for them to adjust from the dark landscape of the unconscious world to the light illuminating the pale yellow walls that now surrounded her.

She was laying in the bed again, on her back. The window in front of her now displayed a nighttime view of the stone wall. And as her eyes fully adjusted, she realized that she still had a pounding headache. 

Tears quickly started forming in her eyes as the memories of what had happened before she’d lost consciousness returned to her. She made to rub her eyes, to wipe the tears betraying her weakness away...but she found that she couldn’t move her left arm from where it laid stretched out beside her. 

Her mind was so foggy. It felt like she had layers upon layers of clouds in her head, muddling her thoughts.

Marinette turned her head to her left, her hair scrunching against the pillow beneath her, and she tried to understand why she couldn’t lift her arm. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the manacle around her wrist was now chained to the upper corner of the bed frame instead of to the lengthy chain it had been attached to before. 

Panic began rising in Marinette at the sight, pushing some of the clouds from her mind. 

She looked to her right side, finding her other arm in much the same predicament, her right wrist restrained to the right corner of the bed frame. Except this hand was wrapped up in bandages that she never recalled getting.

White cloth had been wrapped around her entire right hand, binding her fingers together, leaving her unable to use them. And much to her surprise, her hand didn’t hurt anymore. In fact, she couldn’t feel it at all. Whether that was a good or bad sign though, she didn’t know. And she choked harshly on her breath when she realized that the bandages were not the only addition to her right arm. 

On the inside of her forearm, below the crease of her elbow, there was a needle inserted into her skin, secured in place by a small piece of tape. And it was attached to a long, tiny tube. With her heart pounding in her chest, Marinette trailed her eyes up the tube, finding that it connected to a bag half-filled with some clear liquid. The bag was hung on a metal pole placed beside the bed.

More clarity returned to her as adrenaline set in, and immediately she tried to rip the needle out of her arm. But her hands were completely restrained on either side of her, and all she succeeded in doing was making the short chains rattle against the wooden bed frame as she tugged on them.

Her gaze remained locked on the needle, the sight unbelievably nauseating. But she couldn’t get sick here. She had to keep it in. So she tried to breathe in deep breaths despite how she was already hyperventilating again, despite the hot tears falling onto her cheeks amidst her panic. 

Suddenly another voice came from across the room.

“She’s awake, sir.”

Marinette’s mouth gaped open as she turned her gaze towards the couch to watch Nathalie hang up her cell phone. The woman was wearing her usual black suit, standing with a tablet under her arm, exactly the same as how Marinette had always seen her. Except now Nathalie was apparently working for _Hawk Moth_. Or really, she must have always been. All this time.

That was almost harder for Marinette to wrap her mind around than Gabriel’s identity.

After Nathalie hung up her call, she pocketed her cell phone and met Marinette’s eyes only for a moment before turning to walk towards the door that led out of here.

She didn’t say a single word to Marinette on her way out. And Marinette was too speechless to say anything either. What could she have said anyway? 'Help me?' This was Hawk Moth’s personal assistant, and Marinette was already aware of how much she kissed up to him in their normal lives. Nathalie wouldn’t help her so long as Gabriel was breathing. 

So Marinette watched in a stunned silence as the woman swiftly exited the room, and instantly her heart dropped as she realized who would likely be entering in Nathalie’s place.

Before the door had even fully closed behind her, it was pushed open again, and this time Gabriel walked through. He didn’t stand in place by the door like he'd done the last time. Instead he made right for the bed, clearly not concerned in the slightest with keeping his distance anymore. 

Marinette’s body felt like it was being washed with ice and lit on fire at the same time as a truly primal panic consumed her. In a desperate attempt to get away she scrambled backwards, the restraints on her wrists tugging tightly, though allowing her just enough leeway to sit up against the headboard of the bed. And as she sat there, shaking like a wet dog in her chains, watching Gabriel come closer and closer to the bed, the image of Adrien’s mother surfaced in her mind—Adrien’s mother whose beauty Marinette had only ever seen in photographs and videos. 

Because one day, about four years ago now, she’d mysteriously disappeared without a trace.

Marinette didn’t think the nature of Emilie Agreste’s disappearance seemed quite so mysterious anymore. 

She tried to keep as quiet as she could now through her rapid breaths and trembling chained wrists as Gabriel finally stopped approaching her as he reached the bedside. The whole way, he never took his hard gaze off of her, using the silence as his threat.

She didn’t miss it this time. 

This position she was in though, she hated it like nothing she'd ever hated before. Just sitting there, arms bared open, blood stained on her dress. Every few seconds she instinctively tried to pull her hands back to herself, just so she wouldn’t have to feel so exposed. But every time she tried, her arms remained exactly where they were, and it became harder and harder to breathe.

But she had to. She had to breathe. She couldn’t let herself appear more vulnerable than she already was. Gabriel was the last person who would take pity. Especially if he’d done this before to his own wife. 

So Marinette pushed through her fear, narrowing her eyes at him darkly. 

“What did you do to me,” she asked, her voice low and uneven. 

“You’re referring to the I.V.?” he questioned simply.

Marinette answered him with only a flat glare, trying to let her anger mask the pain from the throbbing that still racked her head, trying to let it mask her distress. Though the subtle amusement in Gabriel's expression made it seem like her pain and distress were the only things he even read from her glare. 

“It's saline solution,” he answered as though it should’ve been completely obvious.

Of course, that answer meant nothing to Marinette, and so she lowered her head slightly, glowering at him. “Which means?”

He laughed faintly through his nose. “Water, Marinette. It’s water.” 

Yeah, like she was going to believe that after getting knocked out twice. “I’m not stupid,” she spat. “This isn’t water.”

He stared down at her, raising one eyebrow. “It is.”

“You’re _lying_.”

“I’m not.”

“I have zero reason to believe you.” 

“Then don’t,” Gabriel said with finality. “That won’t change what it is.” Already the amusement on his face was morphing into annoyance.

His insistence was wasted on her though. The only thing that could possibly make Marinette believe this was just ‘water,’ would be if Gabriel stuck the needle into his own arm. And even then she’d probably still be skeptical considering he was _completely insane._

But upon hearing the irritation drip into his tone, her right hand echoed with the pain she’d felt when he’d been crushing it. She really needed to be careful with how she talked to him while she was on the defensive like this. She didn’t want to push him too far again. Not when she couldn’t even move away from this spot.

So taking a deep breath, she reigned in as much of her hostility as she could. 

“Why would you put this thing in my arm if it was just for water?” she asked, her voice much calmer than before, much more timid, though still laced with assertion. 

Gabriel's eyes flashed with a look of content at her change in attitude. He, the monster, had growled in warning, and she, the beast, had backed off, turning back into simply the trapped princess. And that pleased him. 

How disgusting. 

“You were quite dehydrated,” he answered. 

Marinette blinked a couple of times before side-eyeing him wearily. He had just cruelly broken her hand, and yet now he was claiming to be concerned about her _hydration_? Her arms shook even harder now as she attempted to contain herself.

“If that were true," she asked cautiously, "then why not just bring me a glass of water?” 

He stared back at her with that same look he’d given her before when she’d asked where this room was, regarding her like she was a total idiot. “...Because you were unconscious?” 

“Only because you keep _drugging_ me!” 

“Which is why you have the I.V. for hydration," he said flatly. "Now are you done with this game of Twenty Questions, Marinette? It’s getting rather tiresome.” 

God she hated him. She hated him. She hated him. 

She hated the way he talked down to her. She hated that he could drug her up with whatever he wanted, and that she couldn’t do a thing about it. She hated that he’d restrained her hands, leaving her unable to wipe away the silent tears of rage that now dripped down onto her cheeks. 

She hated that she still didn’t even know what the drug being injected into her arm actually was, or if it really was just water like he claimed.

And she really, really hated the way he kept saying her name like that. It was repulsive. 

In the past he’d only ever referred to her by her last name, or even just as ‘Adrien’s classmate.’ But now he was speaking to her as Hawk Moth, even if he wasn’t currently wearing his mask, and any villain would enjoy the power that came with uncovering their enemy’s identity. He was only calling her by her first name to rub in the fact that he knew what it was. And Marinette _hated_ him for it.

Unfortunately for her though, the clouds in her mind had not yet fully cleared, and so while she was focused on her overwhelming contempt, she failed to notice Gabriel reaching for her bandaged hand until it was too late and he was already touching it. 

“Stop!” Marinette yelled, jolting back in her restraints, twisting her hand out of his grasp. She still couldn’t actually feel that hand, but she was already way too familiar with what happened when he put his hands anywhere near her, and she was not in favor of a repeat performance. “I don’t know Chat’s identity, I told you!” she cried. “I don’t know!”

Any chance she still might've had of coming off as a fearsome opponent dissolved into pieces as she scooted as far back as possible from Gabriel on the bed, which with her restraints, was really probably not more than a single inch. Marinette didn't know what to do now. Even if she had been able to think clearly, there weren't any more plans to come up with. There wasn’t a way out. She was just stuck there, trembling with endless tears streaming down her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she braced herself for whatever pain Gabriel was bound to induce next. 

“I don’t know his name,” she said again as steadily as she could through her repressed sobs, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I gathered that."

He...didn’t sound angry like he had the first time they’d had this conversation. Irritated, definitely. But not angry. 

Marinette dared to peek her eyes open, her gaze latching onto the movements of Gabriel's fingers that still hovered near her injured ones confined in the white bandages. 

“Then don’t hurt me,” she said slowly, punctuating the end of her sentence with a sniffle.

“I’m not.” 

At that, Marinette risked looking back up to his face. He was still watching her intently, and his eyes held something that was so...so Hawk Moth. It was horribly obvious that this was all just a game to him. Her hand, her fear, her life. They were his entertainment.

“I was going to check that you haven’t ripped open the stitches in your hand with all this yanking,” he said. 

Marinette's eyes narrowed. “What stitches?”

“Are you deaf?”

But before she could even try to respond, Gabriel was already reaching for her hand again.

“Stop! Don’t—Don’t touch me,” she panicked. She knew it was probably just about the most pathetic thing she could've said in this situation, but in the split-second she'd had to come up with something, and with all the clouds hindering her ability to think at all, it was all she could come up with to defend herself. And to her surprise, as she blurted it out, Gabriel did actually stop again. 

His fingers hovered even closer now to the white cloth than they had before.

“Don't touch you?” he echoed. “And just how exactly do you presume you got in the bed?”

Marinette met his smug gaze for no more than a few seconds before looking back down at her hand, looking anywhere but at him. 

She really did not want to think about how she got in this bed. The thought of Gabriel's hands on her in any way while she had not been conscious to stop it, caused bile to rise rapidly again in her throat. 

No.

Breathe. Don’t throw up. Just breathe. 

She was Ladybug. Or, she used to be Ladybug. Maybe she wouldn’t be Ladybug again until Chat came and saved her. She didn’t know. But she did know how to hold herself together in the face of a villain, and all of the akumas she’d ever battled had been created by the man currently standing beside her.

If she could face his creations, then she could face him. She refused to let years worth of practice go to waste.

When she didn't give him an answer as to how she thought she'd gotten in the bed though, he began reaching for her hand anyway. Marinette immediately pulled back against the metal manacle with her shaking arm, using all the strength she had, while growling, “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

Within the blink of an eye, Gabriel had already taken hold of her bandaged hand.

He turned it over carefully as if he were actually inspecting it for any blood indicating torn stitches beneath the layers of white cloth. And Marinette had no choice but to bite her tongue and let him.

To know when you are beaten—that was the hardest lesson of being a hero she’d ever had to learn. How ironic that she was only now learning it without her miraculous.

But she knew it was true. She knew she was beaten. And so as Gabriel spent a good minute wordlessly inspecting her hand, she spent every second of it just waiting for him to cut the bad façade and hurt her already. If she couldn't get out of it, then she just wanted to get it over with. 

But the pain never came.

Instead, he let go of her hand and turned to look her dead in the eyes—a clear threat. A dare to challenge his authority. If it had been possible for her to shrink back anymore than she already was, she would've done so right then in a heartbeat.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she choked out. “I don’t have the information you want. You need to let me go.”

Gabriel sighed, taking a step back away from her, the air about him suddenly a tad less formal than before. “Believe me," he said, "I wasn’t particularly planning on having to look after a second child either.” And after a beat, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “And soon a third.” 

It took Marinette a few seconds to realize that the third child he was referring to, was Chat. Mainly because she and Chat Noir weren't actually children anymore. 

Well, almost. Chat was already eighteen, and she would be too in a few months. Which meant she was quite capable of taking care of herself. Honestly, she already had a full-time gig of babysitting this whole damn city, she certainly didn’t need anyone's help to take care of herself besides her family and friends. Least of all Hawk Moth. 

And not to mention, _he didn’t even look after his own son in the first place._ Nathalie and the Gorilla did. Which meant Gabriel had already failed step one of his own stupid plan.

“ _You’re_ complaining?” Marinette glared at him, thoroughly astounded. “You’re the one who _kidnapped_ me. This is completely your fault!”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “That so-called guardian of yours practically handed you over to me the moment he gave you that miraculous. If you’re looking for someone to blame, then you should be turning your attention to that frankly ridiculous old man.”

No. Gabriel was wrong. He was so, so wrong. Master Fu was kind, and wise, and under his guidance Marinette had beaten every single akuma Gabriel had ever thrown at her. All of them. Hundreds of them. Master Fu had entrusted her with the Ladybug Miraculous because she was _good_ at what she did.

At least, she used to be. 

Her mistake of going after Hawk Moth without Chat was her own fault. And Gabriel’s decision to kidnap her was his own fault. None of it was Master Fu’s. 

But Marinette was not about to have this argument out loud with Gabriel, no matter how much she wanted to defend her teacher’s name. It wouldn’t get her anywhere. Plus, Gabriel could easily try and trick her into accidentally revealing too much information about the Guardian, and she was not about to fall for such an obvious trap. 

So rather than taking the bait, she silently rested her head back against the wall, her headache still pounding, and her nausea still grinding away in her stomach. Almost instantly as her head touched the wall, a wave of dizziness washed over her, making the world seem to slightly spin around her, and she shut her eyes in hopes of ignoring Gabriel's presence completely. He was exhausting to deal with.

“Headache?” she heard his voice muse. He sounded as though he didn’t even have to guess. Like he was somehow already completely aware of the pounding in her head.

Marinette kept her eyes closed, resting more fully back against the bed frame as her breathing quickly grew heavier by the second.

“I really hate you,” she said quietly.

Even with her eyes closed, the world seemed to be spinning now. The clouds in her mind were taking back over, just as they had been when she’d woken up only a bit ago—or had she woken up a while ago? She couldn’t recall anymore.

“The sedatives are still in your system,” Gabriel’s voice floated around her. “You should go back to sleep.” He sounded calm now, almost gentle even. Marinette wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard him sound gentle in her life. She hadn’t thought he was capable of it.

This wasn’t right, the clouds must have been meddling with her hearing too. 

“No, I...” she tried to whisper, but already she was losing her breath so quickly. “I...I don’t want to sleep.”

There was a supervillain standing next to her, she couldn’t let her guard down. Then she would really be defenseless. 

But as the clouds kept filling up the space in her head, her headache began to hurt less, and her stomach began to lurch less. It felt so nice. The clouds, the allure of the unconscious world where she could float instead of feel.

She didn't want to be ice cold anymore. She didn't want to be on fire. She only wanted to be warm. And the clouds, they were warm. 

“Just sleep, little bug,” a voice hummed beside her. 

She couldn’t place who the voice belonged to. She felt like she should know, like it was important, but before she could even try and remember who it was, she was distracted by the back of someone’s hand pressing lightly against her cheek, as if someone were trying to feel for her temperature. She didn’t know why someone would do that though, she already knew her temperature. She was finally warm again. Perfectly warm. 

And so in a desperate hope to hold onto that warmth, she fell into the clouds completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's safe, healthy, and enjoying quarantine. I did not expect to be writing such a dark story when an actual lowkey apocalypse hit, but u know, we all gotta do something to keep our minds off it i guess lol


	5. The Lost Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been nearly a month since my last update lmao 🙊u really lose all sense of time in quarantine huh
> 
> forgive me 🙏

One day. Seventeen hours. And two minutes. 

...Roughly. 

That’s how long it had been since anyone had seen Marinette. 

The watch on Adrien’s wrist ticked with every second that passed, and his eyes remained glued to the small movement of the hand, whatever lesson Ms. Bustier was teaching to the class going in through one ear and straight out the other. 

According to the Ladyblog, the akuma attack had started right around seven o’clock the night of the party. Which meant that the last time anyone had seen Marinette, was right around seven o’clock. The night of the party. 

That was nearly two whole days ago. Roughly. 

Adrien knew that he shouldn’t be fearing the worst, that he should be picturing her safe and warm, if just a little lost. But over the last day and a half, the feeling that she was in serious danger had only worsened, taking over every fiber of his being. Marinette was not okay. She was not just a little lost. And as both her friend, and her superhero, Adrien needed to _find her._

At the very least, the police were finally taking this seriously. And as to whether or not Adrien had used his status as a celebrity to give them a bit of a nudge on the case...well, that wasn’t important. Though off the record, it was amazing what the effect one little post online could have in terms of persuading the police department to get their act together. 

The real important thing though, was that by yesterday evening, Marinette’s face had been plastered on practically every screen in Paris. 

As for her parents, they had temporarily closed down their bakery, far too stricken with worry to be focused on running a shop. When Nadja Chamack and her crew had stopped by to interview them yesterday, her parents had only been able to last for a couple minutes before shutting all the TV cameras outside their doors. When Adrien, Nino, and Alya, had gone to see them afterwards, once the crew had left, it had been ridiculously difficult for Adrien to hold himself together. 

The moment the three of them had left the Dupain-Cheng residence, the tears had poured from his eyes like a river bursting through a broken dam, and Alya had not seemed to be doing much better. 

Nino had lowered his cap to hide his face. 

At dinner that evening, when Adrien was back in his home, his father had stopped by the dining hall to brief him about another upcoming photoshoot. But after he’d said his spiel, his father had finally seemed to actually turn his attention to him, taking in Adrien’s particularly despondent demeanor.

“That friend yours,” his father had said. “She’s still missing?”

Adrien could only stare down at his nearly untouched plate as he'd responded quietly. “Yes, Father.”

To be honest, he’d been a little surprised that his father had even bothered to remember about Marinette. But then again, a missing person really was a huge deal. Even his father, the king of the stoic, wasn’t that heartless. 

“Well I believe I’ve already caught a glimpse of her picture on the news,” his father said. “I’m sure she’ll be found soon.”

After a small nod and another quiet, “Yes, Father” from Adrien, he had then left the room, undoubtedly headed back to office, and that was the last Adrien had seen of him. 

After dinner, Adrien had once again spent the entire night searching the city for her—but it had ended up being just as useless as the first time. He hadn’t found a single clue about where she could have gone to.

How his eyes were even still open at this point was a mystery to him.

But open they were, and so now as he sat in his classroom, at his shared desk with Nino, Adrien continued tracking the seconds on his watch intently, watching the smallest hand tick forwards again. And again. And again. And again. And—

“—rien. Adrien?” 

The feeling of someone’s hand coming down on his shoulder caused Adrien to look up from his wrist.

Nino and Alya were standing before him, both wearing expressions of concern. 

“Class ended like three minutes ago, bro,” Nino said, though his voice completely lacked his usual energy. 

Adrien glanced back at his watch. Nino was right, it was three minutes past noon, and as Adrien looked around himself now, he realized that the classroom was already deserted except for the three of them. How could he have missed that?

“If you want,” Alya said while anxiously toying with her phone, “we don’t have to spend the entire lunch period looking. If you’re tired, it’s okay if you want to stay home—”

“No,” Adrien said, but his voice came out rougher than he'd intended. He stood up, pulling his school bag across his shoulder. “No, I want to keep looking for her. I...I need to.”

Although it was true that he would be required to return home for lunch, the plan had been for Adrien to sneak right back out so that the three of them could continue their personal search for Marinette, even if it was just for an hour. Yesterday Alya had asked him if he was really willing to risk getting in trouble with his father, but he had assured her that sneaking out of his house was remarkably easy, and Alya hadn’t pushed the matter any further than that. They needed all the help they could get. Every second that Marinette remained missing, was another second too many.

As Adrien made his way out of the classroom with Nino and Alya at his side, a heavy silence loomed over the three of them despite the fast pace of their steps. Normally Alya would be raving about the Ladyblog right about now, or Marinette would be showing them her newest designs. Now there was just...silence. And it stayed with them their entire way out of the school and down the large front steps.

The only other thing Adrien said to them before climbing into the car waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, was, “I’ll um, text you guys when I’m out.” And then after receiving a matching pair of nods from his two friends, Adrien pulled the car door closed, and his bodyguard drove off. 

Thankfully Nathalie seemed to have been taking pity on Adrien ever since this whole mess began, and so once he arrived back at the mansion, his request to “eat lunch in his room” was quickly granted. Meaning no one at the house would be looking for him until it was time to go back to school.

It really was unnervingly easy to go unnoticed in his own home.

The moment his bedroom door shut behind him, Adrien dropped the tray of food he’d been given down on his bed and called out for his kwami. 

“Plagg, claws—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Plagg rushed out, flying up from out of Adrien's school bag. “You gotta at least eat something first, kid.” 

Adrien opened his mouth to insist otherwise, but...after stopping for a second to consider it, he realized that his kwami may have sort of had a point. He was already doing a terrible job at being a superhero, he would only do worse on an empty stomach. 

With a sigh of surrender, he ignored the ever-present nausea he’d felt for the last day and a half, scarfed down his plate with a lack of grace that would’ve given his father a heart attack, and called out again to transform with his kwami as soon as the plate was cleared. This time he felt the magic of his transformation dust over him from head to toe. 

Chat grabbed for his baton right away, opening up his messages to Ladybug to see if she’d read the text he’d sent about Marinette yet.

She hadn’t. 

His grip tightened around the baton, but he tried not to let his anxiety take over. Ladybug had to have heard about Marinette’s disappearance on the news by now in her civilian life, and even if she hadn’t, Chat could tell her later tonight at their patrol. And hopefully by then he could tell her that he’d _found_ Marinette, and that everything was okay again.

And if he wanted to do that, then right now he needed to get going. 

Racing over to the windows of his bedroom, Chat pushed open one of the tall panels and leaped out into Paris sky, heading in the direction of Zola’s, Marinette’s favorite brunch spot. That was where he was supposed to meet up with Nino and Alya. It wasn’t too far from the school, and, well, a part of him was hoping that they would simply find Marinette seated outside at her favorite table, munching away on some of those raspberry crepes she loved so much. Then they could all join her. They wouldn’t have to search at all.

But as the roof of the building came into view, Chat suppressed that hope. It would only lead to sheer disappointment. He needed to focus on looking for a spot to detransform so they could continue their search already. There were still a lot of stores to check, and shopkeepers they hadn’t talked to yet, and—

“Hey, Chat Noir!” 

Or none of the above. 

Chat turned his gaze to the sidewalk below at the sound of Alya calling his name. She was walking with Nino just a few stores down from the restaurant, waving up to him with both of her hands in the air. He would have just pretended he hadn’t heard so he could get going, but...he’d already made eye contact, and frankly he just didn’t have the heart to bring her mood down even more. 

It was obvious she was barely holding it together as it was. They all were. 

So extending his staff down to the sidewalk, Chat landed soundlessly beside his two friends, offering them a weak smile in greeting. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey,” they responded in unison, in the same somber tone. It was completely different from how they normally reacted to Chat Noir, especially for Alya. In fact, Chat couldn’t think of a time that Alya had ever seemed so dismal about his arrival, especially considering she was the one who'd called him over. He’d been hoping that the presence of the extra set of ears on his head could cheer her up a bit, but already he could see that the effort was in vain. 

“Are you looking for Marinette?” Nino asked quietly with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. 

“Yeah,” Chat nodded. “I...I heard on the news.”

At Nino’s nod in understanding, Alya said, “We were actually all at my birthday party on Saturday. Before she went missing." The hint of tears formed in her eyes as she spoke, and silently Chat prayed that Plagg’s power would cover up his own. "She’d been planning the whole thing for me," Alya continued, "and for weeks she’d been working up the nerve to ask the guy she likes to dance with her. But she left before she ever got the chance to ask him. I know sometimes she gets nervous and chickens out, but that wasn’t a party she would’ve left willingly. Not without at least saying something first.” 

...Wait. 

Marinette had a...a _crush_ on someone who’d been at the party? And Alya and Nino both knew about it?

That was certainly new information to Chat. And it wasn’t something he wanted to dismiss so easily. It might’ve had more to do with Marinette’s disappearance than Alya was giving it credit for, and if they apparently weren’t going to tell him about it as Adrien, then he needed to get them to tell him as Chat Noir.

There’d been a handful of people at that party that he hadn’t recognized, and if Marinette had had a crush on someone less than trustworthy...then it could finally be an actual lead about where she’d gone to. 

“Wh-Who?” Chat stammered. “I mean, who was this person she wanted to—to dance with?” If any obscure blush formed on his cheeks as he asked the question, then thankfully it was perfectly hidden behind his black mask, left unknown to the rest of the world. 

“This guy in our class,” Nino answered. “Adrien Agreste.”

And just like that, Chat’s mask was no longer enough to hide the burning in his cheeks. “Wha—Oh—I—Really?” he fumbled. 

It was...him. Marinette liked _him._

Beautiful, sweet, charming Marinette had a _crush_ on _him._

But...she’d never said anything before. And now she was missing without ever having gotten the chance to. And it was all his fault because he hadn’t helped her find a safe place to hide when they’d first run away from the akuma.

Chat swore now that when he found her, he would make sure she never so much as tripped on a pebble ever again. His heart may have belonged to Ladybug, but Marinette was still special to him. He loved her in her own way. Like how he loved Nino and Alya. Though now, at the thought of Marinette being in love with him just like how he loved Ladybug, his chest felt heavy with something… different. Something he couldn’t exactly describe.

But there was one thing he knew for sure. He would always protect her.

And even if he was in love with Ladybug, it was relieving really, to know that Marinette hadn’t fallen for the wrong person at the party. That it wasn’t some random crazy guy. Though, unfortunately, it left Chat back at square one without any clues to help him find her.

“Yeah, Adrien’s that model,” Alya nodded, bringing Chat's wandering mind back to the conversation. “You’ve saved him before. He’s our friend, he’s a really good guy.” 

“Yes. Right,” Chat said, and his mouth felt stiff as if it very badly needed to be oiled. “That is a thing that I have done. Adrien Agreste.” And not a second later, he added, “S-Saving him, I mean.”

As if coming to his rescue, the chilly October breeze picked up right then, blowing against the three of them, ruffling their hair, and feeling wonderfully refreshing against Chat’s overheated cheeks. As the breeze died down though, a shadow fell across Alya’s face. She cast her eyes down, fiddling with her fingers. “S-So, um...i-is Ladybug with you?”

Upon hearing the stammer in her voice, Chat turned to look at Alya more fully. He knew she was just as stressed as he was about Marinette, but he’d never heard her sound nervous when asking about Ladybug before. It was uncomfortable just to watch.

“Um, no, actually. She hasn’t gotten my texts yet." Chat waved his baton slightly for emphasis. “But if you want an interview for the Ladyblog, I’m sure she’ll—”

“When was the last time you heard from her?" Alya was staring at him very intensely now. She looked...terrified.

Chat glanced between her and Nino, but underneath the shadow of his cap, Nino was looking equally as afraid. Chat did not quite understand why. Sure he wanted Ladybug’s help searching too, but they could still look for Marinette themselves without her. 

This wasn't adding up.

“Please, Chat,” Alya said in a suddenly broken voice. “When was the last time you heard from her?”

“Uh,” Chat blinked, “during the akuma battle the other day, I guess.” And then he watched, baffled, as Alya and Nino turned to look at each other with matching expressions of dread.

“...Why do you ask?” Chat questioned carefully, his eyebrows furrowing beneath his mask. 

Nino cleared his throat. “Maybe we should, um—” he took a hand out of his pocket, pointing up to the rooftops above them, “—maybe we should continue this somewhere less...public.”

Now Chat was really starting to get worried as he looked between the two of them again, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. If they were really willing to spend the limited time of their lunch hour talking to him instead of searching for Marinette, then that meant whatever they thought was wrong, was _really_ wrong.

“Right,” Chat said, standing up straighter and holding out his arms in invitation. Nino and Alya grabbed onto him, and without wasting any more time, Chat used his baton to bounce the three of them up to the closest rooftop, away from the wandering eyes and sneaky cell phone cameras of the street below.

Once his two friends let go of him, the three of them now hidden out of view from the rest of the world, Alya turned to him with that same terror still plaguing her eyes, leaving Chat at a loss for words. 

“After the akuma battle,” she said quietly, “right after you left, I...” She paused for a moment, clearing her throat. "I saw...I saw Ladybug chase after the purified akuma.” 

Chat’s eyes grew wide. “She what?” 

“She didn’t come talk to anyone after the attack,” Alya explained. “Not even that basketball guy. She just...She just chased after the butterfly like it was the only thing she could see right then. I think she might’ve been trying to follow it back to Hawk Moth.”

Chat felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. Several beats. “She—By _herself?_ ”

Alya nodded, biting her lip. “A-And that’s the same time Marinette went missing. And you haven’t heard from Ladybug since then either.” But then Alya tore her gaze away from him, looking down at the dirty rooftop before looking over to Nino as if seeking the courage to speak her next words. “I-If she was really able to follow that akuma...”

“Wait, wait,” Chat said, taking a step back. Suddenly he felt like he was suffocating with thick air in his lungs despite currently standing in the middle of a clear blue sky. “Just—Just wait a minute.” The insinuation Alya was trying to make here, that Marinette was missing because she was actually _Ladybug_ who had followed an akuma back to Hawk Moth—that she was missing _because_ of Hawk Moth... That was not something Chat could just take lightly or go along with by any means. Especially without any proof.

“Ladybug hasn’t gotten my message, because there haven’t been any more akumas,” he said firmly. “And we haven’t been on patrol since then either. It makes perfect sense that she hasn’t transformed again yet.” 

But even as he said it, he could feel the faith he had in his own words slowly seeping away drop by drop. 

“Chat,” Nino’s voice quavered. “It’s just...I mean, you don’t already know Ladybug’s identity, do you?” 

Chat opened his mouth only to close it again a moment later, shutting his eyes as he let out a deep, shaky sigh. He couldn’t deny that their explanation for Marinette’s disappearance technically added up to a solid theory. No matter how much he wished it didn’t. 

In the past, even he himself had wondered if Marinette was really the girl behind his Lady’s mask. But he’d known she couldn’t be, because Marinette had helped them as Multimouse on occasion. Although, during those few times, there had been many miraculous involved. And both Marinette and Ladybug were wickedly clever girls. 

If anyone could figure out how to keep their identity a secret by posing as another hero, it was certainly her. 

_—Them._ It was certainly _them._

But then again...he himself had posed as Aspik once upon a time. Who's to say Ladybug had never done the same with the Mouse Miraculous?

“You guys are saying...” Chat brought up a hand to massage his temple. “You’re saying you really think that Marinette is...”

Alya looked down again, scraping the bottom of her shoe against the rooftop. “I don’t know. But I really don’t have a good feeling about this.”

That, Chat could agree with whole-heartedly. The thought of Marinette in danger had been haunting his every movement for the last day and a half. And now, the thought of Ladybug being tied up in the hands of Hawk Moth was just too much for him to even begin with.

He needed to know if it was true. He _needed_ to know.

Opening the screen on his baton, he called Ladybug’s yo-yo with a speed that he didn’t even have to think about, the action pure muscle memory for him.

But of course, the call didn’t even ring. 

_“The bug is out, so leave a message!”_ Ladybug's recorded voice rang out across the rooftop, and all too soon the sound of her recorded giggle was being cut off by a beep. 

Chat hung up the call before it could capture anything they said, but now all feeling in his thumb had vanished. 

That voice...

Another dial tone rang out, piercing Chat’s ears, and he looked up to see Nino holding out his own cell phone between the three of them with Marinette’s picture on the screen. After two rings Chat heard the same voicemail recording that he'd already heard a hundred times in the last day, only now, despite the static of the phone line, he was hearing it in a new, deafening clarity. 

_“You’ve reached Marinette Dupain-Cheng, leave a message!”_

And then there was a giggle. Cut off by a beep. 

With stinging eyes, Chat watched intently as Nino ended the call with his own unsteady thumb, and Chat was sure that the mixture of shock and panic on his best friend’s face right now was mirrored in his own. 

“She...She could be...” Chat whispered. “...She could be captured by Hawk Moth. Which means he could have her miraculous. Which means she’s _defenseless_ against him.” 

Chat ran his claws through his hair, holding his head as the world seemed to spin around him. 

“Chat—” Alya tried to say, but he held out an arm to stop her. 

“Just...I need to...” 

...To go see Master Fu. And to go find Hawk Moth. And save Ladybug. And Marinette. Which was really the same thing as saving Ladybug, apparently. 

God, he needed to focus. Right now Chat didn’t have time to fret over how he could have missed what was right in front of him all this time. Or over how he was the worst partner in the world for not seeing it sooner. Right now he needed to move. 

Turning to look Alya sharply in the eyes, he said, “You know you can’t put any of this on the Ladyblog.”

“Of course not!” she blurted, seeming shocked that he would even think he needed to remind her. 

Chat ran another hand through his hair, pulling harder than was necessary. “Okay. Okay, I’ll take you guys back down, and just—just stay _safe,_ okay? Don’t go looking for Marinette anymore, and don’t do anything stupid. Just let me handle this.” The last thing he needed was additional civilians getting wrapped up with that sick excuse of a villain. 

Nino nodded wordlessly at his order, and Alya looked like she wanted to object, but then a moment later she quite literally bit down on her tongue, apparently deciding better of it. 

As soon as the two of them grabbed onto him again, Chat brought them back down to the sidewalk, and before either could say even a word of goodbye to him, he was already long gone, headed over the city for the one person who would know if this was truly the crisis he feared it to be. 

The journey to Master Fu’s ended up as more or less a blur. 

One moment he was flinging himself through the sky as Chat Noir, and the next he was Adrien Agreste standing in the doorway of Master Fu’s new apartment where the TV was lit up with a newscast showing Marinette’s picture in the upper corner.

When the Guardian pried his gaze away from the television and turned to him, the grim expression pulling on his face told Adrien everything he needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i wrote in that one joke and like a day later adrichat went trending to #1 on tumblr so if this wasn't a prophecy then idk what is 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! i plan to update much sooner next time, we gotta get back and check in on marinette after all 😉


	6. The Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a Chapter lads, heed warning with the tags

Marinette was falling. 

Endlessly, she was falling, down and down a rabbit hole, mountains rising on either side of her, air whipping past her yet out of her reach. She tried to breathe, but she was drowning. She couldn’t understand why this was happening, she didn’t understand where she was. Where had the mountains come from? Why were there voices around her? Murmurs subduing her screams? The mountains, they were not mountains. No, they were people. Marinette called out to them for help, to catch her, but her voice was too far away, and the people only stood over her, choking her. Looming. Faceless. 

All at once air refilled her lungs and Marinette gasped, her eyes flying open. 

She was...laying in bed. Not falling. And there weren’t any mountains or looming people either, just four obnoxiously yellow walls surrounding her and only her. 

A dream. She had been having a dream. A bad dream. And it seemed the world she had woken up to was not much better. 

Through the window, she could see daylight softly filtering down into the room, but it was still shadowed by the towering stone wall right outside. 

There was no clock here. There was no way to tell the time. It might’ve been the morning, or right before sunset, or anywhere in between. In this room, there was only yellow. 

Marinette groaned, sitting up in the bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Chat should’ve come for her by now, shouldn’t he have? She’d already been here for...Um, well...The last thing she remembered, it had been night. The window had been dark. She’d been sitting in the bed with her arms stretched outside beside her, chained to the frame, and Gabriel had been talking to her, something about water and stitches and…she couldn’t quite recall what else. The memory was hazy, the clouds blended in with the voices.

But Marinette definitely remembered being afraid.

The time she’d woken up before that, it had been daytime and she’d been exploring the room. And...punching the TV. And getting her hand crushed by Gabriel while the chains had pulled roughly on her wrists, excruciating pain enveloping her. 

That, she remembered with much more clarity.

Abruptly, Marinette’s eyes widened. 

The chains. 

Blinking, she lifted her hands out in front of herself, and instantly relief flooded through her at the fact that she even could lift her hands in front of herself. She remembered now. The water. There had been an I.V. in her arm when she’d been chained to the bed. Gabriel had insisted it was water, not drugs (something that sounded exactly like what a supervillain trying to drug her would say) though thankfully now both the I.V. and Gabriel were nowhere to be seen, and her right hand remained wrapped in the same bandages she’d seen before, supposedly healing with the help of stitches. 

Her moment of relief, however, was all too short-lived. Not only were the metal manacles still fastened around her wrists, but now they were linked together by a short chain no more than four inches long, locking Marinette's hands together in front of her. A normal pair of handcuffs would have probably been just as effective, but Gabriel was clearly intent on playing the role of the villain to a tee, using the theatrics of clunky metal chains for the bad cliche it was. 

And in addition to the new short chain connecting her wrists together, each of the manacles had been reattached to the two long chains that disappeared under the bed, anchoring Marinette to the floor on this half of the room. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered in a croaky voice.

Gabriel might’ve not been in the room at the moment, but Marinette understood the message he was conveying to her loud and clear: Roam the room if she wants. But stop punching things.

At the thought of him trying to give her any kind of rules, and at the memory of the pain he’d inflicted when she hadn’t told him what he’d wanted to hear—at the fear of Chat not coming in time before it happened again, Marinette's stomach churned sharply and she hopped right out of the bed, stumbling straight for the toilet in the bathroom before her nausea could finally win the best of her.

She barely made it in time. Whatever was left in her poor stomach was miserably emptied with no one to hold her hair out of her face for her. No one to rub her back. No one to tell her that it was alright, everything was going to be okay. 

And she couldn’t tell it to herself, because she really wasn’t sure it was true. 

Not much time passed before there was nothing left in her stomach to empty. Marinette hadn’t eaten since Alya’s party, and that was...at least two days ago if the daylight and nightfall that peeked through the window were anything to go by. And with getting hit by Gabriel's sedatives multiple times on top of never staying awake long enough to eat, it was no wonder she’d felt so awful. 

Fortunately, now as Marinette stood back up and flushed away the unpleasantries, she realized that her mind finally felt clear again. No more clouds. No more pounding headache. And her injured hand was sore now—which meant she could feel it again, as well as the lighter soreness on the side of her neck.

Whatever drugs Gabriel had dosed her with must have finally all worn off. 

Maybe now she could actually come up with a real plan to get out of here. 

Padding over to the sink, she washed her hands, or really, just her left hand, and she tried not to get the cloth bandages on her right one too wet. Once she’d managed that, she took to rinsing out her mouth and splashing water on her face. The toothbrush she’d seen earlier was still sitting on the counter, taunting her. Marinette really did not want to be using anything provided via Hawk Moth, and she definitely didn’t want to make it seem like she was in any way complicit with this situation, but honestly, she was just about desperate for a clean mouth.

So sucking up her pride, Marinette awkwardly brushed her teeth with her left hand, using the toothbrush and paste supplied by her kidnapper, and then she combed her fingers through her hair, and ventured back out into the bedroom.

Almost instantly, she noticed the tray of food waiting for her on one of the nightstands. 

On it was an omelet. A fancy omelet. With fancy cut fruit on a fancy plate beside a fancy glass of water, although the silverware provided was not quite as upscale. It was plastic. Because clearly Marinette was not to be trusted with pointy metal objects that could potentially be used as weapons. 

She hated how Gabriel was always a step ahead of her like that. 

The tray had to have been in here a while, the food was already cooled off. Marinette must have simply not noticed it in the room when she’d first woken up, and she couldn’t say she was exactly surprised considering she’d had...more pressing matters to attend to.

As she stepped closer now to the nightstand, she inspected the omelette carefully, picking up the plastic fork to poke at it, scooting the pieces of fruit around. A grumble erupted from her stomach at the delicious aroma. 

But much to her aching stomach's dismay, this setup was all wrong.

Marinette was a prisoner of war here. She knew Gabriel was rich beyond reason and all that, how he had a private gourmet chef at the mansion, but everything Gabriel did was calculated. There was no way he would give her food looking this nice without a catch behind it, especially considering his habit of drugging the daylights out of her. For all she knew this food was poisoned. And the crystal clear glass of water was looking just as guilty. 

Tearing her gaze away from the enticing plate, Marinette grabbed a pillow from the bed, and screamed into it.

The only thing on that tray that would actually be of any use to her was the plate itself. Breaking it would be easy, the sharp pieces could be used as a weapon against Gabriel if he came back. 

But as far as actually wielding it...a short range weapon like that would be pretty useless to Marinette with her hands chained together like this. And that was on top of the fact that her right hand was out of commission. 

Oftentimes on patrol with Chat she’d practiced using her yo-yo more with her left hand, but it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t actually left-handed. Pit up against Gabriel, Marinette wouldn’t stand a chance as long as these chains were on. She could only break the plate once she found a way to remove them, or else Gabriel would figure out what she was up to and confiscate the plate from her completely. And then she would have no weapon. 

Marinette let out one more good scream into the pillow against her face before finally tossing it back onto the bed none too kindly.

There had to be _something_ in this place she could use to pick the tiny locks on the manacles. 

Her eyes darted around the room again. On the other nightstand across the bed, there was a box of tissues that hadn’t been there before.

Her eyes thinned.

Gabriel wouldn’t actually give her something like that out of the goodness of his heart, it was only his way of saying she cries a lot, of calling her a cry baby, without even bothering to drop by to say it to her face. 

Marinette set her jaw slowly. 

Over by the couch, she saw that a new television was sitting in place of the one she’d broken, this one just as low-tech as the last. And quite frankly, Marinette did not want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Her right hand spiked in pain at just the thought of it. 

But other than the tissues, the new TV, and the tray of untrustworthy food, nothing else about the room appeared to be any different. It was just the same nothingness. 

So she had to look deeper. 

For a long while, Marinette searched every inch of the room that she could reach. She searched every corner, every nut and bolt, checking for anything even slightly loose. 

She drank water from the sink where it was safe. She screamed against the window for her partner. She went back to the tray on the nightstand, using the prongs of the plastic fork to try and pick the lock on the manacles. 

But in the end, she came out with nothing but a snapped fork and sore wrists still bound in metal. 

Her head rested against the window now as she caught her breath, and slowly, Marinette let herself slide down to the floor until she was sitting under the shadowed daylight with her forehead pressed into her knees. 

What frustrated her more than anything else, was that she had already figured out Gabriel’s identity before, a few years ago. It had been because of the Miraculous Spellbook. Because she’d known he’d been in possession of it. 

Back then, she had shared her theory with Chat, but then Gabriel had become akumatized that same day, leading them to assume that he couldn’t possibly be the face behind Paris’s supervillain. 

Marinette had been so stupid to not see the irony in that timing. If she had just stopped for even a second to wonder why the only time Gabriel Agreste had ever been akumatized was also right when she’d suspected him of being Hawk Moth, then she could have figured it all out years ago. She could have put an end to all of this. And she would have done it with Chat by her side.

Hundreds of people would have been spared the akumatizations. Gabriel would’ve been long in prison. 

Marinette wouldn’t have been captured like this. 

Hawk Moth wouldn’t have her miraculous. 

This whole mess, it was all her fault. Now there was no one out in Paris who could purify Hawk Moth’s akumas. There was no one who could fix the damage he caused. There was no one who could heal the people he hurt. 

If only she hadn’t let him fool her all that time ago.

❖❖❖

Standing in the doorway of the Master Fu’s apartment, Adrien felt like his feet were falling out from under him. “Why didn’t you _say_ anything?” 

Master Fu took a long moment to carefully think over how to answer his question, but Adrien didn’t have that kind of time to wait. Not while Marinette was still out there. 

Stepping fully into the apartment, Adrien shut the door quickly and threw his arms out beside himself. “She’s _Ladybug,_ and she’s _missing,_ and you didn’t _say anything!”_

Plagg whipped out of his shirt pocket, flying out into the air beside him, calling out to him in a worried voice. “Adrien…”

“And you,” Adrien said, turning to point a finger at his kwami. “You knew this whole time too!”

Plagg looked away, rubbing his arms together nervously. “I’ve been _telling_ you to go see Master Fu.”

“But you didn’t say it was because Marinette is _Ladybug!”_

“I couldn’t!” 

“Boys, boys,” Master Fu called out to them from where he remained seated on the mat at the center of the room, his own kwami floating next to him. “Come, have a seat, Adrien.”

But Adrien only shoved his hands through his hair. “I _can’t_ sit down! Not while she’s—she’s—” He couldn’t say it. Suddenly it felt like there was no air left in his throat to form words. 

Adrien drew his hands down over his face, rubbing at the heavy exhaustion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved to sit down at his usual spot on the mat across from Master Fu, Plagg’s familiar weight landing down on his knee a moment after.

“You know why we couldn’t tell you before,” Master Fu’s gentle voice sounded beside him. 

Yeah, because it was supposed to keep them and everyone else ‘safe.’ They were words Adrien had heard a thousand times before.

“I know,” he sighed, and just like that, he found the fight was drained from him. But his body was still riddled with anxiety. “It’s—It’s different now though. I didn’t even figure it out myself. Alya and Nino did. Because...Because they think she got captured by Hawk Moth.”

Adrien watched as Master Fu’s expression turned hard, though he didn’t think the Guardian looked exactly shocked at the information. He must have already figured it was a possibility from watching the news.

“They said,” Adrien went on, “they said they saw Ladybug chasing after the purified akuma from the most recent akuma attack. And then—nothing. No one’s seen Ladybug or Marinette since.”

The Guardian turned to share a look with his own kwami, a hard gaze weighing between the two, frowns on both their lips. “So it seems then that Alya and Nino may be correct,” Master Fu said with sorrow in his voice. 

And that...that was one thing Adrien had needed to not hear. In his chest, he could feel his heart plummeting with no ground to catch it. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he squeaked. “I don’t know how to find her. I’ve been looking non-stop, but she’s not anywhere. God, she’s—she’s my partner. She’s my best friend. I’m supposed to be protecting her, and I failed, and now Hawk Moth could be hurting her, and I just—I don’t know what to do.” Adrien brought up the palm of his hand to wipe away his tears before they could fall. Now wasn’t the time.

“You have not failed, Adrien,” said Master Fu as he rested a hand gently on his shoulder. Adrien only closed his damp eyes, letting out a sigh. But Master Fu was persistent. “You have always tried your best to support her, and you still are. That is not failure.”

“But my best isn’t good enough,” Adrien said, his voice cracking. “She’s in danger.”

A sad smile adorned Master Fu’s face. “Then we’ll keep trying until we save her.” 

Well obviously Adrien was going to keep trying, but that didn’t solve the problem of that he still didn’t know _how_ to find her.

But then, Master Fu said, “There is an old spell I know of, one I was taught way back at the Temple of the Guardians. When done correctly, it can allow one person to contact another through their dreams.” 

Adrien’s breath hitched, and he opened his eyes. “We...We could talk to Marinette...through her _dreams?_ As in, we could ask her where she is?”

“In theory, yes,” Master Fu nodded. 

At that moment Wayzz zipped over into the air between them. “But Master,” said the kwami, “we don’t have enough people for that spell.”

Adrien scrunched his eyebrows together. “…Enough people?” 

“Let me explain,” Master Fu said. “In order to make the spell work, we would need others to help cast it. Others that have a close bond to the person we are trying to contact. The more people we have, the stronger the spell, and the more likely it is to have a steady connection between your dream and Marinette’s.” 

“Okay...” said Adrien. “So we just need to gather some people that Marinette's close to? That’s easy. That’s like, everyone.”

“However,” Master Fu countered, holding up an index finger, “these people can only be miraculous wielders. After all, it is a miraculous spell. And the kwamis must help cast it as well.”

Adrien’s jaw fell to the floor. “How are we supposed to find that! There’s not—”

“You said that Alya and Nino were the ones who discovered Marinette was Ladybug, did you not?” Master Fu asked. He had strange glint in his eyes now. A knowing glint. 

Adrien glanced between the Guardian and the two kwamis in confusion. Wayzz seemed relieved, like he knew exactly where Master Fu was going with this, while Plagg’s face grew into a smile, then a smirk, and Adrien looked back to Master Fu with an eyebrow raised.

“...Yes, they did,” he answered carefully. 

“And Alya and Nino have a close relationship with Marinette?” Master Fu persisted. He sounded like he was trying to insinuate something. 

Adrien was not following. 

“Um—Yeah?" he answered. "Alya is Marinette's best friend. And she’s good friends with Nino too. But I don’t—”

“Oh, for crying out loud, kid,” Plagg blurted from where he was lounging on Adrien’s knee. “They’re Rena Rouge and Carapace.”

“Plagg!” Wayzz and Master Fu scolded in unison, though neither of them actually sounded very upset, and Plagg only snickered. 

Adrien blinked, breathing out a soundless, “Oh.”

Then he tilted his head. 

“ _Oh._ ”

The gears in Adrien’s mind started turning faster by the second, and before he knew what he was doing, he was already standing up to pace the room. “So _that’s_ how Alya made the connection between Marinette and Ladybug. Because she knows both of them. Like, _actually_ knows them. And because Ladybug only gives miraculouses to people she trusts, and yet she picked Alya and Nino to be...” Adrien abruptly stopped his pacing. “Okay. That makes a lot more sense.”

Master Fu chuckled gently on the mat beside him. “Yes. And with the help of those two, we should be able to make a strong enough spell for you to reach Marinette’s dreams. The only thing else we would need are some ingredients for the spell. However, one of them is a native plant unfortunately only found in Tibet.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped to the floor all over again. “You mean you have to go to _China_ first!?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god!” Adrien threw his hands on his head. “We don’t have time for that!” 

Immediately, he resumed his pacing of the room, his arms flailing wildly as he spoke. “We’ve been thwarting Hawk Moth’s akumas for years, he probably has a _very big_ resentment towards both of us. The fact that Ladybug’s _missing..._ If he only wanted her miraculous, then he would have only _taken_ her miraculous. If he took her too, if he’s holding her captive or something, then that means he wants revenge—you know, probably. We really don’t have time for _China,_ Master.” 

While Adrien ranted, the Guardian rose from the mat, heading over to the cabinet where the gramophone rested with the Miracle Box hidden inside it.

“The trip will only take two days, maybe three,” Master Fu said as he punched the secret code into the base of the gramophone, though his voice was seeped with weariness as he spoke. 

“But that’s two days too long!” Adrien cried. 

Suddenly Master Fu’s head snapped back towards him, and in a sharp tone, the man said, “Two days is the best I can do, Adrien. Believe me, I want to get her back just as much as you do. It was me who gave her the Ladybug Miraculous in the first place, and I am not going to be responsible for losing her.” He was staring into Adrien’s eyes with an intensity that Adrien had rarely ever seen from him before. But after a few moments, the old man's expression relaxed, and he let out a sigh. “We are going to save her, Adrien. We just need to have some patience first.”

Any new tears were smeared away from Adrien's face by his palm as he gave the Guardian a shallow nod.

“What about the Horse Miraculous?” he asked quietly. “Couldn't you use that to teleport to Tibet instead of taking a plane?” 

Master Fu only sighed again. “That would be ideal, but I am much too old to be transforming with other miraculous and making portals.” 

“I could make one for you,” Adrien implored without hesitation. From somewhere off to his side he could hear the sound of Plagg scoffing at the prospect of him transforming with a different kwami. But Adrien ignored it. If it would help save Ladybug, then he didn’t care which kwami he had to transform with. He would just make sure to give Plagg extra cheese afterwards. 

“I suppose, if your aim is right...” Master Fu considered hesitantly, “you could make a portal to get me there. But while I’m gone you will need to stay here to protect Paris, and those portals only work in one direction. Coming back, I would still need to take a plane.”

“Deal.”

An amused smile warmed the Guardian’s face as he turned back to Adrien, the Miracle Box now in his hands. “Alright,” the old man agreed. “But first, we must take new precautions to protect Paris. With the Ladybug Miraculous now likely in Hawk Moth’s possession, there is no way for us to purify any akumas he makes until we get it back.”

Adrien felt like a pile of bricks dropped onto his head at the Guardian’s words. He hadn’t even considered what to do if another akuma attack happened before he found Ladybug—that until he found Ladybug, there was no Ladybug. 

The most Adrien could do on his own was fight any villains Hawk Moth made, and free the butterflies. He couldn’t purify them. And it almost always took him and Ladybug _both_ to get that far anyway. 

There was no “I” in “Cat and Bug Team”. And without Ladybug, there was no team at all. 

“What do we do if we can’t purify akumas!?” Adrien exclaimed. “I mean, I guess I could Cataclysm the butterflies so that they don’t multiply, but that won’t restore the damage they’ve caused, it will only stop Hawk Moth’s magic until he akumatizes someone else. And that would also mean that I can’t waste my Cataclysm in battle at all. Or if I did, then I would have to stop and recharge, and if I’m on my own, that’s not... And then there’s Marinette’s _parents._ Hawk Moth could easily target them since they're so distraught about their daughter missing, but I can’t just guard them twenty-four seven from any wandering akumas. Master, this is—” 

But as Adrien turned his focus back on the Guardian, he finally realized what the old man was doing. The Miracle box was resting on the floor now, the Fox Miraculous had been sorted into its own personal box, and now Master Fu was taking out a second box which was undoubtedly intended for the bracelet around his own wrist, the bracelet that had bound him to Wayzz for the majority of nearly two hundred years.

“Master,” Adrien breathed, but the old man was deep in sharing a silent moment with his kwami, the two of them with ages in their eyes that Adrien would probably never be able to truly comprehend. 

Plagg landed down on Adrien's shoulder, and together they let the two have their moment of goodbye. 

It was only after a couple of minutes that Master Fu finally spoke up again. “This is for the greater good,” he said. “And it does not have to be forever. Adrien—” Suddenly the Guardian was looking to him, staring at him as though he were shifting the entire weight of the world into nothing but Adrien’s two hands. “—once you, Alya, and Nino have saved Marinette, you can return this miraculous to me.”

Adrien nodded, speechless, and he watched with heavy breath as the old man finally removed the bracelet from his wrist and closed it inside the small individual miraculous box, sealing away the small green kwami from the room. 

After a few painfully quiet moments, Adrien asked, “Sh-Should I... I mean, since I know now who Alya and Nino are, should I tell them that I’m...me?”

“I believe that would be for the best,” Master Fu replied resolutely. “Now is no longer the time for secrets. We need to all work together. And since we will be needing the help of those two for the spell anyway, you are welcome to bring them here now before I leave. They need the miraculous, and we should all plan.”

Adrien blinked. “Oh, o-okay.” 

It was nothing short of jarring. And not in a bad way necessarily, it was just, after years of doing the absolute most to keep his identity a secret, suddenly he was supposed to just invite Alya and Nino over to casually plan how to defeat Hawk Moth? Just like that? Just call them and say _‘Hey, so by the way, I’m Chat Noir and I know your guys' identities because I’m currently chilling at the house of the Guardian of the Miraculous. Want to come over for tea?’_

—And if it was that easy, then couldn’t they have revealed themselves to each other a long time ago? Couldn’t they have planned and worked together as a full team _before_ it was too late and Marinette’s life was at stake? 

Adrien pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll, um, I’ll call them over.” But the world seemed to be moving too fast for him to even dial properly. There was too much information running through his frazzled brain. He hadn’t even properly slept in two days, he was surprised he was even able to process Ladybug’s identity. 

Suddenly a hand came down on his shoulder, causing Adrien to jump. 

“Marinette will be okay,” Master Fu ensured from beside him. “With or without her miraculous, she is a fighter. If Hawk Moth tries anything, I’m sure she will give him hell in return.”

The Guardian's words made Adrien want to chuckle and cry at the same time. The thought of Marinette making Hawk Moth regret he ever tried to mess with her in the first place, that was so her. 

Looking back to the old man with a watery smile, Adrien nodded. “I know she will.”

So with that thought serving as a breath of fresh air returned to his lungs, Adrien unlocked his phone and called his best friend while Master Fu left to the kitchen, announcing he was off to start an overdue pot of tea. 

The phone had barely rung once when Nino picked up.

 _“Hey man, were you able to get out of your house?"_ Nino asked. _"The lunch period is almost over.”_

Adrien held the phone to his ear with an unsteady hand, closing his eyes. “You were right,” he said, but his voice quivered.

 _“Uh, you mean about your house, or...?”_ came Nino’s confused voice from the other end of the line.

From where Plagg was hovering by his phone, Adrien met the creature’s small eyes, the same look of uncertainty mirrored between them.

“Look, Nino, um, I-I don’t really know how to explain this, but I really need you and Alya to meet me somewhere right now.”

_“It’s alright, bro. We’re already by the restaurant.”_

“No, I-I don’t mean there... Um, it’s—it’s not really safe to say over the phone, I’ll send a kw—I mean, I’ll send someone to come get you. It’s not that far from the restaurant. But you have to promise me that you guys won’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

 _“Adrien, is...is everything okay?”_ Nino asked, suddenly sounding much more worried. _“You’re kinda freaking me out here, dude.”_

Plagg zipped in front of Adrien right then, bopping him on the nose. “That doesn’t sound like a promise,” the kwami protested.

Adrien shooed Plagg away with his free hand before turning his attention back to the call. “Nino, please, just promise me you guys won’t tell anyone, and I’ll explain everything when you get here.”

 _“Y-Yeah. Okay, dude,”_ Nino agreed. _“But like, explain what?”_

Adrien opened his mouth to try and answer, but a stray tear escaped down his cheek instead and he closed his eyes again. 

“Ladybug,” he whispered, and down fell more tears. “You were right about Ladybug.” 

❖❖❖

It was a strange sensation, being so fueled to fight and yet so physically exhausted at the same time.

Marinette was still sitting on the floor under the window, though it was hard to say how much time had passed since she’d slumped down. It felt like a lifetime. Or five. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible and find something actually safe to eat.

—And also, of course, save Paris. But her growling stomach said food was coming first. 

But all she could do right now was wait impatiently under the window, just itching for Gabriel to come back so she could either convince him to let or go, or use him to find a way to escape. Like perhaps stealing the key to the manacles, or sneaking his phone away from him to call for help. Or even better, sneaking his miraculous away from him. 

But until then, as long as Marinette was on her own this room, there was no escape. And she refused to go back to the bed or sit on the couch in the meantime, because she was not about to get cozy on anything owned by that freak. This room was a glorified cell, and Marinette would not let Gabriel fool her into thinking it was anything other.

It was bad enough that she’d had to use the toothbrush he’d left out for her, the bed and couch were completely out of question. 

And so after waiting another lifetime or two, she eventually heard it. The click of the lock from the door across the room. Immediately Marinette got up off the floor—though with her hands bound like this, her balance was not exactly at its best, and she was still awkwardly staggering to her feet as Gabriel entered the room looking as disgustingly refined as ever. He walked in with a precise ease, heading right in her direction. 

Marinette's mind wanted her to attack. Her body wanted her to run. As a result, she stood in place shivering, gulping down her fear and hiding it away.

“You didn’t eat your breakfast,” Gabriel mused as he approached her. His expression was contained. Controlled. Though Marinette could hear the subtle dissatisfaction in his voice.

So the food really was a trap after all. 

She looked him up and down, at his layers of clothing. There were plenty of hidden pockets where he could be hiding a key or his phone.

But then he came closer to her, clearly never having heard of personal space, and she couldn’t help it as her feet carried her a step back. 

“Stay away from me,” she warned.

Her voice didn’t sound nearly as strong as it had before. 

Gabriel clicked his tongue in annoyance, the sound causing the fear Marinette had swallowed to stab her from within her stomach, and then Gabriel was planting himself in front of her, poised and looming over her like the faceless people she vaguely remembered from her dream.

“That's not how this works,” he said, and his voice was rich with an underlying threat. Though as to what exactly he was trying to threaten, Marinette didn’t know. Perhaps it was just a villain thing, trying to make everyone he spoke to cower in fear before him.

Marinette set her shoulders back, standing up taller as she glared up to him. “How _what_ works?”

And even though she’d been the one to ask the question, inside she was praying that Chat would come bursting through one of the windows before she had to actually hear the answer. She didn’t want to give Gabriel the time of day. She didn’t want to hear an evil rant about his evil plans.

But Chat didn’t come. No one came. There was only Gabriel staring down at her with amusement growing in his shallow smirk, victory in his eyes. “You really don’t seem to be understanding your situation, do you?” he asked with a picture-perfect villain tone. It was unbelievably irritating. 

And yet, Marinette's fear still barricaded any answer from leaving her lips. 

She understood she was his prisoner at the moment, but admitting that out loud to his face was a hit that her pride couldn’t take. If she had to watch Gabriel gloat like that, then she might actually lose her control and attack him. And then he would only drug her again. Marinette would lose all the mental clarity she’d finally gained back. So she stayed silent, and it did not take very long before Gabriel must have realized she was not going to indulge him. 

His composure grew significantly colder, and in an authoritative tone, he answered himself for her. “I own you, therefore you do as _I_ say. Not the other way around.”

Marinette was sure her eyes bulged right out of her head. “What on—that’s bullshit! You can’t—you don’t _own_ me.” 

“Of course I do,” Gabriel replied in that same low voice, saying it as though Marinette were ridiculous to possibly try and argue otherwise.

Her lips parted in dawning terror. 

This whole battle, the feud of Ladybug and Chat Noir versus Hawk Moth, it was all supposed to be over the miraculous. That was supposed to be the prize to be won. Not _them._

Not _her._

But looking down now at her chained hands, feeling the leftover ache in her neck from the needle punctures, listening to her stomach’s hollow lament as it begged to be fed... Marinette realized that this was truly not just about the miraculous anymore.

 _I own you_. 

He really thought it was true. 

Marinette looked back up to the man standing before her, dread spreading into every corner of her body. “What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked quietly, on edge.

Gabriel's eyes were watching her every movement. Analyzing her. Learning. Figuring out what made her squirm. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. 

“It means,” he said carefully, “that you will do whatever I tell you, whenever I tell you to. You will tell me whatever I want to know, whenever I want to know it. And when you speak to me,” he took another step closer into her personal space, narrowing his eyes behind his glasses, “you will address me correctly.”

Marinette blinked, one of her eyebrows quirking up in confusion. One of those demands was not exactly as foreboding as the others. 

“...You mean, ‘Mr. Agreste?’” she asked, inclining her head forward. She would have called him that anyway. Why he was trying to threaten her into saying it, she didn’t—

“I mean, ‘ _sir.’”_

Oh. 

Yeah, no way. 

Ironically, up until she’d woken up in this room of course, that had been the only way Marinette had ever addressed him. To his Gabriel side at least.

It had been a no-brainer, he was basically the most powerful person in the fashion industry of France, and it wasn’t like she didn’t have manners. But she knew better now. Hawk Moth wasn’t “sir”. He was a villain. He was evil. He didn’t deserve a title of respect like that, and the thought of him trying to make her give it to him, along with the rest of his absurd list of rules, made her stomach want to empty itself all over again. 

Marinette was not going to do anything he told her to. And she was certainly not going to tell him anything he wanted to know. Such was her sworn duty to Paris. And to Tikki. And Chat. And there was nothing Gabriel could do to make her break it. 

Blowing out a low breath, Marinette squared her chin. She’d already had enough of this stupid conversation. 

“Yeah,” she sneered, tossing her chained hands up in the air, “why don’t I just get on the fucking ground and worship at your feet while I’m at it.”

Gabriel’s eyes thinned dangerously, as if to intimidate her. 

And maybe it did. A lot. But she ignored it, instead using the opportunity to spit directly onto his designer shoes. “Go to hell.”

Gabriel's reaction was instant. Before Marinette could even blink she was being thrust back by a large hand wrapped around her neck that pinned her in place against the wall behind her. The back of her head slammed as she made impact, but...she could still breathe. Gabriel wasn’t actually choking her, just keeping her up against the wall. Though he was pressing against where it was still sore, and Marinette was far too aware of how easy it would be for him to crush her windpipes at a moment’s notice.

He tsked as he towered over her, a predatory leer on his face. “Such a vulgar mouth for such a little girl. We’ll have to fix that.”

Marinette tried to pry his hand away, a task that quickly proved to be impossible with only her chained left hand at her disposal. So she seethed at him through his hold on her neck. “Get your filthy hands off of me.”

His grip tightened slightly, instantly causing her stomach to drop with panic and she struggled harder to get away. But Gabriel had her trapped perfectly in place, like a lion with one foot on the tail of a scampering mouse.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he scolded mockingly, “I’m the one giving commands around here.”

God he was _infuriating._

Marinette tilted her chin up in defiance, her chest heaving. If she was going to go down, then he could bet she was going to do it swinging. 

Looking Gabriel dead in the eyes, she said, “You know for a fashion designer, your taste in interior decor is horrendous.”

Apparently that was the final straw for him. 

His free hand flew in a fist at her stomach, and Marinette's mouth fell open in a silent gasp as she felt the impact carry through her. She tried to lean forward on instinct to ease the pain, but Gabriel's hand was still around her neck, and he slammed her back against the wall, knocking the breath out of her and keeping her pinned upright, forcing her to endure the full pain of the punch as she coughed harshly and gasped for breath.

Marinette retaliated before she even knew what she was doing, kicking at him, swinging her forearms at his to knock his hand away so she could actually breathe again. _“Get! Off!”_

And unsurprisingly, he only stepped to the side, dodging her kicks while his grip remained firmly around her throat. 

It wasn’t fair. How could he dodge everything? How come she never landed a single hit back? She couldn’t even _breathe._

“Let me spell this out for you in a way even your tiny bug brain can follow,” Gabriel said bitterly. “If you disobey me, you will be punished. Understand?” 

Marinette didn’t bother wasting her breath trying to speak through her coughing, instead she only gave him a sour glare. Though at her lack of response, Gabriel's fingers tightened again, just enough to make her feel it, and Marinette's body betrayed her, giving into fear, and she went rigid under his hold.

He couldn’t just... He couldn’t just _steal someone_ and decide that they would obey his every whim. 

The world didn’t work like that. Humans didn’t work like that. 

The preset of oncoming tears were pricking at Marinette's eyes now, and silently she begged them not to fall. She had made it this far without crying, she really did not want to let it look like he was winning. Even if he was. 

“I’m not a slave,” she choked out.

Gabriel's free hand came at her face.

Immediately she flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, but instead of another punch, she felt fingers that were too strong for their own good grip her jaw, turning her head as if to examine her. 

“No,” Gabriel said in agreement. “You’re more like a pet, aren’t you. Just a fallen little ladybug.”

Tears welled more fully in her eyes at his words, and Marinette dropped her gaze down to the side, her eyebrows furrowing together across her forehead. “Fallen...” she echoed in a raspy murmur. 

In her dream, she’d been falling. She’d been falling and falling and falling with no end, no ground. Although, it had been a while ago now since she’d woken up, and most of the other details of the dream had already faded from her memory as dreams tended to do. But she remembered the fall. She remembered how terrifying it was. How helpless she had felt. 

Now that she was awake, the fall she was experiencing here did not feel terribly different. There was no one to save her. No one to come catch her. She would either keep falling, or eventually she would crash and burn. 

And she didn’t know which fate was worse. 

“You can’t just keep me here forever,” she said, her voice crumbling apart against her will, unable to keep up with the weight of her words. As the first of her tears rolled down her cheek, Marinette used her left hand to bat at Gabriel's arms again, although this time it was much weaker. More like she was tapping out rather than actually trying to hit him. 

Granting her a bit of relief, his fingers left her chin, returning to his side. But the hand on her neck remained exactly where it was, holding her in place, his eyes still observing her carefully.

“Tell me what I want to know, Marinette.”

Exasperation overcame her as she looked up to him. Was he seriously going to go through this same conversation _again?_

“I already told you,” said Marinette, “I don’t know Chat’s identity. And he doesn’t know mine.”

Gabriel's gaze was as sharp as a knife now.

“But you know the others'.”

For a split-second Marinette's eyes widened, panic landing like a two-ton weight on her chest. But immediately she looked away again to regain control of her expression. No matter what, Marinette would not betray her friends. She would never put them in danger. Ever.

She shook her head over Gabriel's hand. “No, I don’t know th—“

His fist collided with her stomach again, and more tears fell down onto her cheek. She tried desperately to regain her breath through the pain. 

“Oh, I think you do,” Gabriel said.

But as Marinette's stomach trembled and quivered, she only shook her head no again. Which turned out to be the wrong move. 

Suddenly she was being pried off the wall and tossed roughly down to the floor, her hip taking the brunt of the impact without her arms to help her catch her fall. 

“I told you before, little bug. You’re a bad liar.” Gabriel was standing over her now, not a single trace of remorse on his face whatsoever. “You would be wise to make this quick, and tell me the truth now.”

Gradually, Marinette pushed herself up onto her elbows, then her hand, coughing and taking in deep breaths of air now that her throat was finally free from Gabriel's grip. Though a new dizziness came over her as she did, this one not caused by any drugs.

“Why...” she said in a gravelly voice, “why would I tell you anything, when the last time I told you the truth, you _broke my hand about it.”_

Gabriel rolled his eyes at her like she was nothing more than a childish nuisance. “It’s not broken, it’s a little bruised. You’ll get over it.”

_“Dude.”_

This time it was his foot that struck her, plowing into her ribs, knocking her back down to the floor. 

“That’s ' _sir,'"_ he growled. 

Marinette kept her eyes closed now, trying just to make it up onto her elbows as pain blossomed where he’d struck her. Clearly Gabriel was not holding back his strength just because she was a ‘little girl’. 

_“Say it,_ ” he demanded, and Marinette opened her eyes, daring to look back over to him, though only to find that he was already bringing his foot back for another swing in her direction.

“Chat!” she cried out as she ducked her head down to the floor, shielding it with her arms. She prayed that Chat was nearby, that he would hear her voice through the window and come get her the hell out of here. 

But all she felt was another foot slamming into her stomach, and a sob escaped her throat as she coughed, calling out her partner's name even louder. 

Gabriel chuckled lowly above her. “Scream all you like, little bug. No one will be able to hear you. Especially not that pathetic cat.”

From her position on the floor, Marinette lifted her head back up to look at him, her lips parted in dismay.

“You really should have figured by now,” Gabriel said. “This room is completely soundproof. Even for that cat’s special ears.” 

But...if Chat would never be able to hear her...then...then there was really no way for him to find her. Marinette was really stuck all on her own in this room with Gabriel, who had no qualms about hurting her until she started giving him some answers. And only the answers he wanted to hear. A true villain through and through. 

Marinette sat up all at once, starting to scramble backwards on the floor, trying to at least get out of his range of fire, but Gabriel was quick to step on the slack of one of the long chains, preventing her from going anywhere. His eyes bored into her, his thirst to cause chaos, to be in command of it, clear as day. 

He was coming closer to her and she couldn’t move back. He was crouching down in front of her and she couldn’t get away. Marinette's only choice was to sit there trembling, her wide eyes remaining glued to his every movement while Gabriel lowered himself down to her level. 

Resting his arms on his knees, he spoke to her in an eerily calm voice. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

She wanted to shake her head no, but he was already restarting anyway, like a rollercoaster taking off before she had even a chance to fasten her seatbelt.

“Tell me the identities of the other heroes, Marinette.” 

She knew that if she didn’t say anything, this would only go on forever. But there was still only one answer she could give.

“I don’t know their identities,” she tried again. 

It only earned her a hard slap to the face. 

Marinette cupped her stinging cheek, her mouth gaped open in shock, and for a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder if this is what Adrien experienced at home when no one else was around, or if this cruelty was reserved just for Ladybug.

She prayed it was reserved just for her. She couldn’t stand the thought of Adrien suffering like this at the hand of his own father, especially when she couldn’t step in now to protect him. 

“I know you know who they are, Marinette,” Gabriel said. “You constantly ditch battles to go fetch them.”

“No, I...I don’t know,” she implored. It was a big fat lie. “I’m not the one who...the one who...”

A long time ago, a couple years ago now, Master Fu had called Marinette over to his apartment after school one day for what he'd said was an important lesson of her Ladybug training. That day, he had explained to her the reality of the dangers she could potentially face as a hero, especially with Hawk Moth always growing stronger, though the Guardian had taken care not to scare her too much. 

Marinette had rolled her eyes at the time, waving her hand down, insisting such scenarios were exaggerated and would never actually happen. After all, what kind of hero would let themselves be captured by a villain? That kind of canceled out the point of being a hero in the first place, and she was better than that. 

But even despite her insistence, Master Fu had made her memorize a mental script of what to tell Hawk Moth or Mayura, or any other villain that could potentially capture her, in order to avoid being coerced into revealing the true identities of the other miraculous users. 

Marinette didn’t like the script. But that had never mattered since she never should have had to use it anyway. And so that day, all that time ago, she had let Master Fu teach her what he wanted her to say. 

She swallowed hard from where she sat now, averting her gaze from the villain crouched before her. 

“I...I leave the battles to get help,” she said slowly, trying not to let her voice catch, “but I’m not the one who recruits them.”

“The Guardian, then?” Gabriel pressed. 

Marinette turned her head away. She should say no. She shouldn’t push the blame onto Master Fu. It would only make him Hawk Moth’s target even more than he already was. 

But that was what Master Fu wanted. 

If it would save her. 

“Yes,” Marinette whispered, closing her eyes tightly.

“Look at me when you speak to me,” Gabriel ordered, and Marinette wished so badly that the sensation of falling would go away instead of worsening with every word he said. She didn’t want to look at him. If she did, he might see right through her lies.

However, as ashamed as she was to admit it, she also really did not want to get hit again. And Master Fu had taught her how to save herself. Even though it was at his own expense.

So slowly Marinette turned her head back towards Gabriel, drawing her focus up to meet his ice cold eyes. “Yes,” she repeated.

But instead of letting her off the hook, Gabriel's eyes only narrowed. “Yes, _sir_.” 

It took everything Marinette had in her to not lose it on the spot. To keep her raging anger to only a clenched jaw. 

“Yes, sir,” she bit out with steaming daggers in her gaze. 

Gabriel hummed in acknowledgement, though his face remained completely the same—hard, ruthless eyes boring into her. 

“And where _is_ the Guardian?” he prodded. 

Stick to the script. Stick to the script. 

“I don’t know,” she said. Automatically, Gabriel’s hand raised again, and Marinette flinched, shielding her face with her arms as she rushed out, “Because he’s always on the move. Ever since Feast, he’s always been on the move.” 

False. Master Fu had found a new apartment shortly after the Feast incident. She and Chat had helped him decorate it. 

But despite her lie, Gabriel’s hand lowered back to his knee without striking her. “And yet you still find the Guardian during every battle,” he said disbelievingly. 

“O-Only because—” She was cut off as a hand wrapped around her left forearm, pulling it, and by default her right arm as well, down away from her face. 

“I told you to look at me,” Gabriel said with irritation. 

So Marinette looked at him. Falling and falling and falling. The air around her, out of her reach. 

“Only because..." she said again, "...because my powers tell me where to find him." And that part was true. At least for the short period of time when Master Fu had been on the run. “If Chat and I need help in battle, my powers will tell me where to find him. But only if we actually need it.” Also true. “Otherwise, I have no way to find him.” Now that was another big fat lie. The last time Marinette had been at Master Fu’s apartment was the morning of Alya’s party. The kwamis had been having a cookie eating contest with macarons from her parents’ bakery. Tikki had won.

“You expect me to believe that you have no idea where the Guardian is? That you never see him outside of battle?” Gabriel asked. His fingers had yet to let go of her forearm.

“It’s true," she said. It wasn’t. “I find him, and then he recruits the other heroes to help us. I don’t know any of their names. Not besides the ones who already exposed themselves to both of us.” i.e. Chloé and Kagami. “But obviously they don’t get a miraculous anymore anyway, because you already know who they are. And they definitely don’t know anything useful.”

For a long moment Gabriel stared her down with a scrutinizing gaze. He must have been trying to determine whether she was lying or not. 

But Master Fu had been smart. He’d woven the story for her with enough truth that she could sound honest telling it.

When a minute passed and Gabriel had only continued his staring, Marinette said, for the millionth time, “I don’t have the information you’re looking for. Please—” her voice cracked again, “—please just let me go.”

After another few seconds, Gabriel abruptly stood up from his crouch, dropping her arm in favor of using his hand to adjust the glasses on his nose. 

She followed him with her gaze, looking up to him from the floor as she waited for an answer. 

When he looked back down to her though, Marinette saw more than just irritation in his eyes. 

“Eat your food before I decide to take it away,” he said roughly, and that was her only warning before he exited the room, leaving her sitting there, mouth hung open in disbelief.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound of a lock being turned followed shortly after. More tears fell down from Marinette's unblinking eyes. Her stomach still throbbed in pain. Her cheekbone still stung.

Master Fu’s advice had worked in that it saved her from being beat again. 

But he never told her that it would result in her being left like...like this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh. u guys hear hawk moth's rap or


	7. The Red Brick Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooo, ik this update took longer than planned, apologies. obv there has been a lot going on in the world, so i've been very occupied, and I'm also working from home on top of that, so, u kno how it be. i hope everyone is doing well <3

A light, chilly breeze blew through the darkening sky, wafting the sweet scent of roses across the Paris rooftops.

Chat had not meant to come here. 

He’d meant to go home after his evening patrol, to finally get some real sleep for the first time in days. Because for the first time since Marinette had gone missing, things were finally starting to look hopeful. Sort of. 

As it turned out, the big dramatic goodbye between Wayzz and Master Fu earlier that day had become a bit underwhelming when Adrien had then let Wayzz back out of his box again not even five minutes later so that the kwami could go bring Nino and Alya to Master Fu’s apartment. The initial reveal had been shocking for them of course—well, actually, not so much for Alya, who had apparently guessed Adrien’s identity years ago on a whim—but after a lengthy group discussion and several cups of tea passed around, Adrien had opened a portal, Master Fu had stepped through to China, and Adrien, Nino, and Alya had been left alone as a newly bonded team to defend Paris. 

So Adrien shouldn’t have had to worry about it anymore. Everything was going according to plan. He was already doing everything he was supposed to do until Master Fu came back with the ingredients for the spell, which was really just to watch out for akumas, defeat said akumas, and then Cataclysm the butterflies before they could multiply.

And so far, there had not been any akumas. 

So Adrien was supposed to be able to take a breather. He was supposed to relax. Get some damn shut eye. 

Instead he found himself absent-mindedly following the sweet scent of roses through the air as if it were a trail of breadcrumbs, one that he realized after-the-fact had led him directly to Marinette’s abandoned balcony. 

Chat landed down on the deck silently, blending in perfectly with the twilight backdrop around him, his eyes just another glint in the sea of scattered city lights. Not even his baton could be heard as he retracted it and tucked it away behind himself. 

Beside him, hung on the rail of the balcony, was a planter box. It housed the flush red roses that had led him here. Their soil was damp. Tiny droplets of water glistened on their blushing petals. 

It hadn’t rained recently. 

Marinette’s parents must have taken over the roses' care during their daughter's absence. During her capture.

Chat stepped over to the window that led down into Marinette’s bedroom, moving just as quietly as he had when he’d landed. He’d been wondering all afternoon, ever since he’d learned that Marinette and his Lady were one and the same, if maybe, just maybe, she had left some kind of note behind, something that only Chat would be able to recognize. Her parents had said that they’d already searched her room up and down, but they hadn’t found anything suggesting that Marinette had planned her leave in advance. 

But, maybe...maybe they just didn’t know what to look for. After all, it wasn’t like they knew she was _Ladybug,_ and Ladybug had always made it clear to Chat that she wanted to keep her parents as far away from her dangerous life as possible. So maybe she’d left behind a note, or a secret code, a last-resort distress signal, _something,_ that would help lead Chat—and only Chat—to wherever she was now. 

Chat hadn’t meant to come to her room _right now_ though _,_ completely unannounced and during the night. He’d just…meant to go home, and his subconscious had taken him here anyway. 

And now that he was here, he couldn’t leave until he found an answer. 

Chat opened the window slowly, so as to not create any noise, and carefully, he lowered himself down onto the pink comforter of Marinette's bed. From there he padded down the steps to the floor of her room. He didn’t need to turn on the lights to see. Night-vision proved to be a handy superpower.

It was a little strange though, he would admit, being in a girl’s bedroom when she wasn’t there.

Being in _Ladybug’s_ bedroom. At all. 

The room was very familiar to him, of course, Marinette’s apartment was right across the street from the school, making it the most common place to hang out within their friend group. But, suddenly it felt…new. Foreign. 

Chat was closer to Ladybug than he was to anyone else in either of his lives, but even after all this time, her personal life had remained a mystery. And now Chat was standing in the one place that held all of her deepest secrets. 

If the situation weren’t so dire, he would never have intruded like this. He didn’t want to be intruding now. 

But if there was even a chance that she’d left behind a note for him, then he absolutely had to find it. 

So he searched. He searched on top of her desk. He searched inside the drawers below it. He searched through all of the pictures of her friends that she’d pinned to the walls, hoping to find an extra note hiding between the polaroids. He checked inside her large chest, he peeked in her closet—they were all things he’d seen before, but Chat still felt like he was prying. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. It wasn’t like Marinette had just left a sticky note somewhere saying, _Gone to track down Hawk Moth. Be back later. xoxo -LB._

But nothing about the room seemed out of the ordinary. And he really did feel bad for sticking his nose around without her permission. 

Running an exhausted hand through his hair, Chat glanced up to the bed he’d climbed down onto when he first came into the room. Wasn’t there a shelf up there or something he hadn’t checked? 

Within seconds he climbed back up the ladder onto the bed, though he found that only a few books, a picture frame, and a nightlight resided on the shelf by the head of the bed, and Chat felt his heart sink deeper than he’d ever thought was possible. With a heavy sigh, he flopped down onto his back atop the comforter, and shut his eyes for a moment to think. 

Maybe he was just too tired to figure out what he was supposed to be looking for. Whenever they were in battle together, Ladybug’s plans always involved more than met the eye. She was so clever. Far cleverer than he was. And that was on a normal day. As it was right now, Chat hadn’t slept in over forty-eight hours. 

A stray tear streaked down his mask, trailing down onto his skin. 

He didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t even want to think it. 

But he knew. He knew that the reason he couldn’t find anything, was because there was nothing to find. 

With the way Alya had described Ladybug’s disappearance, it hadn't exactly seemed planned. Ladybug couldn’t have possibly known before the battle that she would succeed in using her Lucky Charm so quickly, granting her enough time to chase the akuma. But…that would mean that she really did not intend for any of this to happen. That it was really all out of her control. That she didn’t come back from chasing the butterfly, because Hawk Moth had captured her that thoroughly.

That Hawk Moth was probably exacting his revenge on her at that very moment. 

“I’m sorry,” Chat whispered.

He'd known all day that this was likely the case, but there'd been a part of him that hadn't let himself fully believe it. Part of him had refused to believe it. 

“I’m sorry, My Lady.” His voice crackled, and he rubbed a hand against his eye. “I’m so sorry.”

As more tears joined the first in dampening his black mask, Chat turned onto his side, burying his cheek into Marinette’s pillow, dampening that as well. 

There was nothing in this room for him. Her pillow barely still held onto her scent. 

“I’m sorry.”

Chat shouldn’t be laying here, invading her room like this. He should be patrolling. He should be saving her. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His voice grew fainter. His eyelids felt heavy. What was left of the scent on Marinette’s pillow was the closest thing to comfort he’d felt in days. 

“I...I’m...” 

Before Chat could even realize what was happening, slumber had already crept up on him, easing away his tears and softening his breath as he sunk into the cushioned ocean of Marinette’s bed. 

❖❖❖

Deafening silence rang throughout the room after Gabriel left. Marinette still sat on the floor, staring at the closed door, her heart thumping heavily within her chest, every beat amplifying the pain spread throughout her body.

She was too scared to move. She was too afraid to turn her back on the door—terrified that the moment she did, Gabriel would discover some plot hole in her lie and come bursting back into the room again, and that this time he wouldn’t leave until he got the real truth out of her. 

Because she _did_ know everyone else’s identities. She’d chosen almost all of them for the job herself. 

But what scared her even more than the thought of Gabriel coming back, was the possibility that he wouldn’t come back at all. That since she’d claimed not to know anything, he would decide she was of no use to him now and leave her here to die all on her own in this room where no one would hear her cries for help.

Minutes passed by.

Marinette remained on the floor, paralyzed in her fear. Her wide eyes remained glued to the door. 

But the door remained closed. 

Her heart beat on and on, pounding in her ears like the heavy ticking of a clock. And yet still she was alone. 

She could feel fatigue and exhaustion pulling down on her, as if her body wanted to simply melt into the floor. When more minutes passed and nothing changed, Marinette gave in to her body’s wishes. She crawled back over to the spot under the window and laid down on her side, her legs automatically curling up into something of a fetal position. It didn’t make the pain go away, but it at least gave her body a false sense of ease. 

As she rested her cheek down to the cool floor, Marinette found herself almost wishing that Gabriel would stop delaying the inevitable and just akumatize her. In fact, she was actually rather surprised that he hadn’t already done it. She clearly had plenty of negative emotions for him to prey on, and if he took control over her mind then he could simply make her tell him the truth—the real truth—about anything he wanted to know. It seemed like far too golden of an opportunity for him to waste. Why did Gabriel bother with chains when he had _magic?_

...Although, perhaps it was because he’d realized, just as Marinette had, that akumatizing her would grant her her best chance at escape. If Gabriel released her into the city under his control, then Chat would undoubtedly fight her, and there was a very good chance that Chat would be able to free her of the akuma. He might not be able to purify it without her, but Marinette knew that he could still destroy it and set her free of Hawk Moth’s magic. Then she would be out of captivity and reunited with her partner, and...that was exactly what Gabriel seemed adamant on _not_ letting happen, lest she expose his identity to anyone outside of these four yellow walls. 

But, that was still only one possible explanation as to why he hadn’t akumatized her, and honestly, it didn’t entirely add up. 

In Marinette’s experience, Hawk Moth was cocky. He’d always been overconfident in his own powers. To him, the benefits of akumatizing her should be more than enough to sway him to go through with it. It was exactly the kind of risk he would dare to take for the sake of obtaining both miraculous.

So then, why hadn’t he taken it? Why was she still in this room instead of wreaking havoc on Paris under his control? It wasn’t like Marinette _wanted_ to be akumatized, even if she could use it to escape, but Gabriel’s actions just didn’t make sense. Now more than ever, his line of thinking was truly a mystery to her. 

Marinette sniffled from where she laid with her head to the floor. Tears leaked from her lashes here and there, dripping sideways across her cheeks while her fingertips traced along the faint lines in the hardwood. She would have used the tissues Gabriel had left out for her, despite the cruel joke they were intended to be, but her stomach was in too much pain to get up just for that. It wasn’t like there was anyone here to see her in her snotty misery anyway, she guessed it didn’t really matter how much of a mess she was now. 

She wondered though, when Gabriel did akumatize her, if the magic would make the pain go away. 

As the daylight above her began to darken, she found herself longing for that special air she felt whenever she was transformed—like a faint tingling, even lighter than a feather, and warm like a gentle kiss of sunshine. She would feel it whenever she thrust out her yo-yo, calling for a Lucky Charm, or whenever she went hand to hand with an akuma and came out unscathed. Or even when she was just Marinette, whenever Tikki would land in the palm of her hand, giggling as she swallowed a cookie whole. 

That feeling, of course, was magic. Pure magic. In its most simple form. 

Marinette hadn’t realized how much she missed it until now. She hadn’t realized how ingrained into her life it had become.

Closing her eyes, she pictured herself flying through the city air with her yo-yo, all of her senses enhanced, her strength at its greatest, and she almost swore she could still feel it. The sprinkling of tingles. The sensation that delicately wove itself with her very being. Tikki’s power becoming one with her.

Marinette opened her eyes, and the feeling dissipated instantly. Like the press of a light handprint vanishing from her skin. 

She could imagine it all she wanted, but the feeling wasn’t actually real. Not anymore. The magic was gone now, and Marinette didn’t want to spend any more time remembering what it had felt like. It hurt knowing just how badly she’d messed everything up, and she was already in enough pain for one night.

Wiping the leftover tears from her cheeks, she slowly pushed herself up from the floor and rose to her feet. Although, with her hands bound and her stomach pinching in pain, she found herself pathetically needing to use the wall for balance. 

At the very least, the places Gabriel had hit her seemed to hurt a little less now, and even the deep soreness of her right hand seemed to throb just a little lighter, though really, Marinette knew she was only getting accustomed to the constant pain. 

A heavy sigh drew from her lips, and she headed for the bathroom. If she didn’t want to think about the magic she’d lost, then she needed a distraction. Like, for example, coming up with a plan to get out of here that did _not_ involve getting akumatized. Sneaking Gabriel’s miraculous or his phone away from him was obviously off the table. Gabriel was so strong that Marinette had spent the entire time he’d been in the room just trying to defend herself, and with the condition she was in, she didn’t have nearly the stealth it would require to sneak anything away from him anyway. 

She’d considered flooding the room using the sink and bathtub faucets, but that probably wouldn’t accomplish much except pissing Gabriel off. She’d also considered starting a fire in the room so that he would evacuate her, but really, there was no guarantee that he would even come for her. Out of all the people that Gabriel would run through fire for, Marinette was probably at the very, very bottom of the list. 

So that left her with the option of breaking out on her own by brute force. 

But she had already tried that. And it had only done her more harm than good. And now her brain was too exhausted to think of a new plan. She was _starving._

Marinette hobbled her way over to the sink inside the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to gulp down a fresh glass of water and relieve the barren wasteland that was her throat. Instead, she was stuck using only her cupped left hand to bring minuscule amounts of water to her lips at a time, as if she were stranded alone in the woods, sitting over a pond. 

With every shallow swallow she drank, her throat pulsed with soreness. 

She was glad now that there was no mirror here. She didn’t want to see any bruises left behind by Gabriel’s fingers. She hadn’t even dared to lift up her dress to peek at the skin of her stomach. She didn’t want to know what color those new spots would become. 

And to really top off her misfortune, behind her, the bathtub lurked in the corner of her vision while she drank, mocking her with its shiny white gleam. 

Marinette felt disgusting. Her clothes were stale. Her face was stained with tears and sweat and the dirtiness of the polished floor. She wanted to scrub herself clean of every place Gabriel’s fingers had touched her. She wanted to rub and erase him from her skin over and over again until she was unable to feel anything at all. 

But she couldn’t. 

The chains on her wrists stole away the mobility she would need to take a bath, and she couldn’t even get undressed past the chains in the first place. And even if she somehow could, this room was the very last place on the planet that she’d want to. She had no choice but to resign herself to her filth.

Marinette continued on drinking from the faucet. Though with every agonizingly small handful of water she shakily brought to her lips, agitation grew inside of her. After only a few sips more, she couldn’t stand the ridiculous process anymore. She shut the faucet off with more force than necessary, causing the chains to pull painfully on her bandaged hand, and she stomped back into the main room.

How was she supposed to find a way to escape when she couldn’t _do_ anything?

The two small windows of the bedroom drew her attention as she slammed the bathroom door closed behind herself. The windows were almost completely dark now. What remained of the daylight peaking through them was weaning away like an hourglass down to its final grains of sand. Though much to Marinette’s relief, the room itself was still lit. The only light switch in the room was placed right beside the white door she couldn’t reach, and Gabriel had thankfully left it on. 

However, he could have just as easily confined her to darkness, and her stomach flipped uncomfortably at just the thought. 

Marinette did not like being alone in the dark. 

On her unsteady feet, she walked up to the only window she could reach, peering through its glass. She was just barely able to make out the patterns of ivy on the stone wall, an endless spider web of dark green creeping against the grey. Below it, where she recalled having seen a narrow pathway made of red bricks earlier, there was nothing but a sea of black now.

Marinette leaned her forehead to the window, staring emptily into the darkness where the brick path should’ve been. She was almost desperate enough to try tapping her heels together three times if it meant a means to escape. She knew better than anyone not to underestimate the existence of magic, and she had certainly learned her lesson, that there was no place like home. 

But instead of tapping her heels together, Marinette only sighed against the window. Her breath created a small cloud on the glass similar to the clouds which Gabriel had filled up her head with. She already knew tapping her heels together wouldn’t work. Her shoes were gone. Her ruby earrings had been stolen. And she had followed the wrong road. The path below her was made of red brick, not yellow, and everyone knew not to follow the red brick road for it would never lead to home. 

Apparently, it led directly to the witch’s castle. Shocker. 

Suddenly the silence of the room was shattered by the click of a lock, and Marinette jumped, her heart all but leaping out of her throat.

She wasn’t ready. She couldn't do part two of Gabriel’s interrogation so soon. Everything still hurt. And she didn’t have any new answers for him. Not that she ever would, but still—

The door opened anyway, and Marinette could only watch helplessly, frozen in place by the window, unable to move a single muscle. But—it was not Gabriel who entered the room.

It was Nathalie. 

She closed the door behind herself wordlessly, and in her hands she carried a tray topped with a plate of food and what looked like first-aid bandages. And she was alone. Gabriel wasn’t here.

But that didn’t mean Marinette could breathe easy by any means.

Nathalie’s gaze was quick to land on where Marinette stood limping by the window, and a frown formed on the woman’s lips as she took in the sight, a clear glint of sadness glossing over her eyes. When Nathalie turned her head a moment later to find the uneaten omelet plate still sitting on the nightstand, her frown only deepened. 

It almost seemed as if...as if Nathalie was feeling bad for Marinette. As if she had come here, not to let Marinette free, but to _pity_ her. 

Anger sparked within Marinette at the display, and she clenched her chained left hand into a fist. She wanted to ask Nathalie just what she thought she was doing here (despite the fairly obvious reasons given on the tray), but Marinette found that her voice was refusing to come out, barricaded within her chest. 

It had probably only been a matter of seconds since Nathalie had entered the room, but it already felt like Marinette had been standing there frozen for hours. 

“Mr. Agreste has asked that you eat dinner,” Nathalie said, daring to speak first. She spoke in a completely neutral tone—a sharp contrast to the unmistakable pity leaking from her eyes, and she was still standing in the Marinette-free zone by the door, appearing totally composed except for her expression.

At her words, the spark of anger inside Marinette soared into a full-blown whirlpool of emotions. She could feel herself drowning in a spiral of frustration, and fear, and contempt, and—and so much more that she didn’t even know how to identify. All she knew for sure, was that one emotion stood out from the rest, whipping more violently around her than any other. 

Fury. 

“ _Oh,_ I’m _sure_ ,” Marinette growled in a strangled voice. “I bet he would love that. I bet he asked _so_ nicely.”

Because of course Gabriel would love it if she poisoned herself by eating that food _._ He must have actually thought there was a chance she would be gullible enough to fall for it if he tried a second time. And wasn’t he supposed to be threatening to take her food _away_ anyway? He seriously did not give Marinette enough credit, this trap was only more obvious the second time. She wasn’t _blind._

Nathalie didn’t react to Marinette’s harsh tone with anger of her own though. Instead, Nathalie simply sighed and walked over to the nightstand, setting the new tray down beside the old one. “Mr. Agreste has also instructed that your bandages be changed,” she added.

Marinette’s eyes widened for a moment before she narrowed them sharply. “No.”

“Marinette, it’s—”

_“No.”_

This lady was out of her mind if she thought that Marinette was willingly going to let her anywhere near her injured hand. Gabriel had already demonstrated quite clearly that he had every intention of making Marinette’s injury worse if he thought it would benefit himself in the moment. And Nathalie was just his glorified minion. Marinette had no doubt that Nathalie would crush her hand just the same if Gabriel told her to—and he likely already had, seeing as he’d sent Nathalie in to “kindly change her bandages.”

As if proving Marinette's thoughts correct, Nathalie was already taking a couple of steps away from the nightstand, coming towards her. “We should keep the bandages fresh,” she said softly, clasping her hands together neatly in front of herself. “Especially the one on your neck. It’s not good to go without changing them once a day.” 

Marinette could only stare back at her in bewilderment. “It’s not ‘ _good?'”_ she echoed. “It’s not _‘good’_ to _break people’s hands!”_

Nathalie sighed. “It’s not broken.” 

_“So I’ve heard.”_

Marinette was flat out seething now. Her chest was rising and falling heavily with her uneven breathing. Her dizziness forced her to step back against the wall just to keep her balance and stay upright. She could only pray that her weakness wouldn’t be noticed by the woman standing before her. 

“Marinette,” Nathalie tried again, but this time she said it so sadly, apparently giving up on maintaining the false air of indifference. She sounded as if she were _hurt_ that Marinette was rejecting her. 

Marinette’s left fist clenched even tighter now, her fingernails digging into the palm of her hand. 

_How dare she._

How dare Nathalie have the audacity to act offended. How dare she aid Hawk Moth in kidnapping her, and then come in here acting as though she were on Marinette’s side—but not let her free. How dare she offer kindness, whether fake or not, when she was the _bad guy._ When she was the _evil_ one. 

At least Gabriel owned it. _He_ didn’t waste his time trying to convince Marinette that he was actually trustworthy on the side. Gabriel was only unapologetically evil. 

Because there were only two sides to this war.

Everyone involved was either fighting to use the miraculous for good, or they were fighting to steal them for evil. Feigning neutrality like Nathalie was now, trying to pretend like she hadn’t committed terrible crimes, like she wasn’t endangering Adrien with every day that she knowingly let him live in the same house as his father, it was despicable. 

“Just get out of here already!” Marinette burst.

Only distantly was she aware of the new tears that crawled down her skin. She was too occupied with watching Nathalie’s every movement as the woman carefully unclasped her hands to hold her palms out in front of herself, approaching Marinette as though she were approaching a wild animal that could lash out and bite her at any moment. 

That’s what beasts were known to do after all. 

“It’s okay, Marinette, I’m not going to hurt you,” Nathalie said in a cautious, soothing voice.

Marinette glared at her incredulously. “How stupid do you think I am!?” 

Though as the words spewed from her lips, her stomach spiked in pain from the exertion, and Marinette doubled forward, clutching her stomach while still heavily pressed against the wall—both for support, and for the sake of putting as much distance between herself and Nathalie as possible. 

Running wasn’t an option. Not with these chains serving as a convenient leash to anyone who stood in the room with her. 

“...Would you like some ice?” Nathalie’s voice asked gently, sounding even closer now than before.

Marinette snapped her head back up. “Why, so you can hit me with that too!?” she shrieked, and with every word her raw voice only broke apart more.

“No, of course not,” Nathalie frowned. “I only—”

“Leave!”

As if finally surrendering, Nathalie lowered her head with yet another sigh leaving her lips. Without another word, she turned and walked back to the nightstand, collecting the old breakfast tray as well as all of the first-aid supplies. 

She only paused once on her way to the door—to send one last pitiful look Marinette’s way, and then she exited the room completely. The click of the lock resounded behind her, resonating awfully in Marinette’s bones. And then, just like after Gabriel had left, there was nothing. No sound. All Marinette could hear was her own breathing. Only the light clinking of metal chains. Only her own heartbeat pounding against the silence stinging her ears.

Marinette didn’t pause to think.

She just acted.

The long slack of one chain was already in her hand, and she didn’t know or care how it got there. She just thrust it at the window as hard as she could, slamming the metal into the thick glass with far more force than anyone in her physical state should’ve been able to.

The glass didn’t break. Not even a single tiny crack formed. 

Marinette picked up the chain again. And then again. Blindly, she threw it over and over at the invincible window, releasing the boiling fury overflowing from inside of her.

But after only so many throws, the last sparks were already draining away from her body, and the tears in her eyes blurred her vision too much to find where the chain had fallen amongst the floor anymore. The pain in her stomach, and her neck, and her hand, and her ribs were all beginning to register again as she leaned against the wall, unable to catch her breath. It was all too much. She felt empty. She felt helpless. 

A mangled sob escaped her throat.

"It hurts," she choked out. 

No one heard her.

With nothing else left to do, she slumped down to the floor, and cried into the palm of her shackled hand. 


	8. Shattering Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all aboard the "it gets worse before it gets better" train
> 
> choo choo

Long nights were something Marinette was used to. As a senior high school student _and_ an around-the-clock superhero, long nights were her specialty. Fighting akumas until sunrise? No problem. Cramming an entire essay between sunrise and breakfast? Piece of cake. 

But never had Marinette spent those nights without Tikki’s constant words of encouragement, or without Chat’s soft smiles and the hot cups of coffee he would bring her in the late hours of the evening, their steam creating small clouds against the dark Paris sky. Never had Marinette spent those nights locked in solitary confinement. Never had she experienced a hunger so forceful that it actually felt like her stomach was trying to eat itself from the inside out.

Marinette didn’t know how to do this. 

Being left alone with just her thoughts for so long was so much worse than she’d expected. And that was quite a lot considering she hadn’t expected it at all. This whole time Marinette had been waiting for Chat to come rescue her, waiting for him to defy the odds and burst into the room with his claws raised like a knight in shining armor—but reality was crashing down on her now. It drowned her like a tidal wave, it flooded every inch of her lungs. 

Because if Chat had never found Hawk Moth before, even after years of steadily searching, then how could Marinette suddenly expect him to find Hawk Moth now? 

The answer—she couldn’t. At least not with her whole rational thought. A tiny sliver of her heart still hoped for Chat to come save the day of course, but that was all she would allow herself. Only a sliver of hope.

Marinette leaned her head back against the wall. Once again she found herself sitting on the floor beneath the window, her legs sprawled out in front of her with one knee lazily drawn up. She liked that spot, under the window. Though only as much as it was possible to favor any spot in a prison cell. It would’ve been very unladylike to be sitting in the way she was while wearing a dress had anyone else been in the room to witness it, but Marinette was far from caring about trivial manners like that. On this endless, solitary night, she sought only comfort.

The new dinner tray Nathalie had brought in a while ago was still sitting exactly where she had left it, untouched on the nightstand.

It haunted Marinette relentlessly, calling out to her like a siren’s song.

The ‘dinner’ was a sandwich—a fancy sandwich, of course—probably the fanciest sandwich Marinette had ever seen before. She hadn’t even known sandwiches _could_ be fancy. Not like this one was. 

Leave it to Mr. Gabriel Perfectionist Agreste to find a way. 

But no matter how fancy the sandwich looked, or how mouthwatering it smelled, or how badly Marinette’s stomach grumbled in pain with every whiff she took of its perfectly toasted cheese and artisan bun and thick roasted meat (steak?), she could not eat it. She could not risk getting poisoned when her miraculous was still in Hawk Moth’s hands. Even if there was nothing else Marinette ever did right again, she had to get her miraculous back. And she could not do that if she let herself get tricked into eating a poisoned apple—or, steak sandwich, apparently. 

So as the night ticked on, she tried to think about other things instead. She tried to imagine what words of encouragement or advice Tikki would be giving to her right now if she were still here with her.

All Marinette found herself able to think about though, was how disappointed the little kwami would be in her. 

So she tried to imagine being out on patrol with Chat instead. She tried to imagine the two of them taking a break, lounging on a hidden rooftop. She tried to picture what they would be laughing about, what ridiculous puns he would be making. She tried to feel his warmth as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

Instead, Gabriel’s words from earlier rang through her mind in a tirade, the memory of his voice shattering her fragile daydream. 

_“You’re more like a pet, aren’t you.”_

_“Scream all you like, little bug. No one will be able to hear you.”_

_“Such a vulgar mouth for such a little girl.”_

And he was right. Ever since being trapped in this room, Marinette’s vocabulary had become spectacularly more colorful. 

Normally she rarely ever swore like that. It just wasn’t her personality, it wasn’t who she was. But without anything left to defend herself with, without even the use of her own two hands, she became every bit the beast she was deep down inside, spewing vulgarities at Gabriel as her last defense without even intending to. 

She hated herself for doing it. 

_“I own you.”_

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eyes as she leaned her forehead down against her raised knee.

_“I told you before, little bug. You’re a bad liar.”_

Marinette wished she could stop thinking. She wished she could stop remembering. Just for one minute.

_“Little bug.”_

She gritted her teeth together. Hearing the nickname, even in memory, felt like nails scraping against a chalkboard. Like bare knees falling onto gravel. Like harsh static endlessly growing louder. 

And yet it was such a normal nickname for Ladybug. Had it been anyone else who had called her that, she probably wouldn’t have even noticed. 

_“I own you.”_

Marinette sniffled into her hand.

_“I own you.”_

_“I own you.”_

“Stop it,” she whispered. 

The voice in her head did not listen. As the night trudged on, so did the echoes of Gabriel’s cruel words. There were a few times that Marinette was almost able to fall asleep, sitting there against the wall—but every time she would begin to drift off, violent dreams would flash behind her eyelids, shaking her awake while amplifying the pain of her various injuries in the process. And every time she focused on the pain, she couldn’t help but think back to Nathalie’s offer, wondering if it had been genuine, if Nathalie really would have helped her and brought her ice. There was little Marinette wouldn’t do for a real ice pack and some pain killers right then.

Too many hours passed like that. Wondering. Aching. Remembering. 

Alone. 

Marinette was starting to doubt the sun would ever come up again. 

Somehow, though, eventually the sun must have decided to take pity on her. Finally, it began to turn the window above her to the luminous indigo of early morning, flushing away the night that had tormented her for so long.

And only once the morning had come, did Marinette realize with a start that she feared the possibilities of what the new day could bring more than she had feared the night. 

Perhaps the sun hadn’t risen out of pity at all. Perhaps it was punishing her for being the worst superhero Paris had ever seen. Because a new day could mean new questions from Gabriel.

What if he hadn’t believed her lie at all? What if he _did_ believe it and so he forced her to build on it, only to have her mess up one tiny fact somewhere, destroying the fabrication altogether. 

Either way, Gabriel would eventually uncover her lie. He was too smart, and it wasn’t exactly designed to hold out long term. And if there was anything Gabriel had definitely been right about, it was that Marinette was a terrible on-the-spot liar.

The window above her lightened from indigo to full daylight far more quickly than time had passed during the night, and before she knew it, she was already hearing the click of the lock across the room. 

Instantly Marinette’s body started shaking, as if she were standing outside in a freezing snowstorm and not a secured room, and she hoped with her entire being that it was only Nathalie who was on the other side of the door, here to bring her more food or offer some ice again or whatever.

But of course, all of Marinette’s luck had vanished the moment she’d lost her miraculous. 

As Gabriel entered the room alone and strode towards her, he made a point to observe the untouched tray on the nightstand. A frown pulled down on his lips exactly like how Nathalie had done when she’d come in, and on weak, trembling legs Marinette fumbled to her feet. The closer Gabriel came to her, the more she couldn’t help but flinch and hunch in on herself against the wall behind her. She wished it would swallow her whole. 

Gabriel was quick to cross the room and he stood himself in front of her, always towering over her, always on the hunt. 

“Still not eating _and_ bullying my secretary?" he mused. "That does not exactly qualify as obedient behavior, Marinette.”

Marinette swallowed thickly, finding that Gabriel’s words fueled fresh sparks of anger within her amongst all the fear, and she flicked her gaze up to meet his. “I’m not ‘bullying’ her, she’s _evil_.”

Gabriel stared down at her flatly. “She’s a secretary.” 

“To a supervillain!” 

Instinctively, Marinette tried to toss her hands out on either side of herself as she snapped at him, momentarily forgetting about her metal restraints. But of course, the manacles hadn’t gone anywhere, and so as she tried to move her arms apart, the short chain binding her hands together pulled harshly on her sore shoulders, causing a sharp sting to ring through them.

As Marinette hissed in pain, Gabriel’s frown lifted into a smirk. 

This was bad. Marinette needed to control her temper or else Gabriel was going to start swinging his fists around again. And Marinette really, really did not have the capacity to take a punch right now. Or ever again, preferably.

But a fate like that would have required luck.

She curled back in on herself, turning her shoulder to the man looming over her, if only for the sake of trying to delude her panicking heart into thinking that she had any sort of safe retreat left. She had no doubt that Gabriel could hear her heartbeat from where he stood. 

“Nathalie was only offering to help you,” he said in that liquid voice of his.

Good to know he found this amusing. 

“No,” Marinette said sternly, fixing her gaze on her toes. “She’s helping _you._ And I don’t need your help.”

But even as she said it, her stomach growled loudly, creating a symphony against the constant rattling of her chains. Her balance was near nonexistent at this point. She wasn’t even sure if she was actually standing upright or not, the room was spinning too much to tell. Her feet wouldn’t stop teetering. 

“It seems to me like you do,” Gabriel’s voice said from right in front of her. 

Marinette wanted to retort that the only person’s help she needed was Chat’s, but she bit down on her tongue before it could come out. Saying a thing like that out loud would only either tick Gabriel off, or make him even more amused—neither of which were favorable outcomes for Marinette. She just wished she knew what to say to make him _stop._

“You’ll have to eat eventually, Marinette,” Gabriel went on. “You’re barely standing as it is.”

He was right. He was always right. Marinette wanted to eat so badly, it was almost unfathomable. Her stomach was ready to settle for anything, she had never been anywhere near this hungry before in her life, and every second of it was a torture worse than the last. 

“No,” she choked out. “I’m not going to let myself be poisoned by you.”

Gabriel chuckled lightly. “Poisoned? You think I would poison you?”

“I _think_ you find it fun to stick needles into my neck,” Marinette bit out, glaring to the floor, though she jumped as fingers that were not her own suddenly took hold of her chin. They used just enough force to turn her head back to meet Gabriel’s gaze, and her uncontrollable trembling increased tenfold while his command from yesterday blared through her head— _Look at me when you speak to me._

“Precisely,” Gabriel said only once she had her focus on him again. Marinette braced herself for the strike that she feared would come any second. But rather than a strike, his fingers instead trailed delicately down from her jaw to brush over the bandaged wound on her neck, making her wince as he pressed lightly on where the soreness was centered. “If I wanted to dose you again, then I would have simply done it. Why would I bother tampering with your food?”

Marinette's eyes rapidly filled with soon-to-be-shed tears. “B-Because you’re Hawk Moth,” she answered. She needed Gabriel to stop. She needed his fingers far, far away from her. But she couldn’t say anything in protest, because she was too afraid he would hurt her for it. “A-And because I’m...I-I’m...” 

“Ladybug?” Gabriel answered for her. He drew his fingers away from her neck, though only so he could run them softly down her unbrushed hair. “But you’re not anymore, are you.”

Marinette couldn’t take it anymore. She dropped her head, staring right back to her toes, needing to look at something that wasn’t _him_ as she fought to hold back her tears. Her bottom lip was beginning to tremble against her will.

“That life is gone, Marinette,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly. “You belong to me now.” His fingers trailed through another lock of her hair. It was more painful than when he’d been hitting her. 

Her mind was screaming for him to stop. 

Out loud, she only sniffled. 

“You should start accepting that,” he said, “or you will only make this harder for yourself than it needs to be.”

Marinette clenched her left hand into a fist to keep from outright smacking his hand away, and her mouth remained sealed to keep anything she might regret from spilling out. 

Apparently satisfied with her restraint, Gabriel eased back from her immediate personal space, returning his hands to their resting position behind his back while he hummed his approval. “The food Nathalie brought to you is not poisoned,” he said. “Nor do I have any intention of poisoning you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Marinette’s voice came out barely audible even to her own ears. 

Gabriel chuckled smugly through his nose. “It doesn’t really matter if you believe me, it’s still the truth. And besides, you need to eat—” he reached out a hand to tilt her fallen chin back up, “—and that is the only food available to you. You really don’t have any other option than to believe me.” 

Gabriel was right. She didn’t have any other option. She knew she’d have to eat eventually.

Why was he _always_ right?

Marinette wanted to hide her face away as her tears came dangerously close to spilling over, but Gabriel’s hand remained holding her chin up towards his face—a silent command to keep her focus right where it was. 

“I won’t do it,” she said quietly. Her voice was littered with waves as her body shook. “I can’t.” She needed to get her miraculous back. She couldn’t eat the food. She couldn’t trust anything Gabriel gave her. “I-I—”

“You will,” Gabriel cut in. “And for the record, unlike you, _I_ have been nothing but honest.”

Marinette’s blood went cold.

Gabriel...knew? He knew that she’d lied to him? Already?

No. No, this didn’t prove anything. Gabriel could’ve just been messing with her. He could just be trying to see how she’d react to being accused of lying. 

Marinette did her best to wipe any shock or surprise from her face as she tried to think of a plan to get out of this. Staying a step ahead of Gabriel was so dizzying for her tired brain. 

“Well if you’re so honest,” she gritted out, “then tell me why you’re doing all of this—why you haven’t just akumatized me already.” 

She didn’t know what kind of answer she was expecting exactly, but the hard blow to her stomach certainly caught her off guard. She stumbled back against the wall, catching her breath as her mouth fell open in surprise. 

What _was_ that? It didn’t feel like a punch. Not exactly. 

When the world stopped spinning enough for her to stand relatively straight again, she dared to glance back up to Gabriel. In one of his hands he was now holding—a _belt?_ But he was already wearing a belt. This was a _separate_ belt. A _hitting_ belt. 

Fantastic. 

“Wh—”

“You are not to command me of anything,” Gabriel said coldly, apparently having moved on from his fill of entertainment for the morning. “If you want to ask me a question, then you are going to do it properly. Got it?”

Marinette set her jaw, trailing her gaze up slowly from the belt in his hands to meet his gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry,” her voice dripped out with sarcasm so sharp it could have cut her. “‘Why haven’t you akumatized me, _sir_.’” She said it like it was the most vile word she’d ever spoken. 

The corner of Gabriel’s mouth twitched, and a gleam Marinette couldn’t quite decipher flashed in his eyes. All she knew was that it made her take another subtle step back along the wall.

“Hm, well as much fun as that sounds,” Gabriel answered, “akumatizing you would be a waste of a butterfly.” 

The question mark that abruptly flashed in Marinette’s head must have been clear on her face as well, because a moment later Gabriel continued on to explain, “The people I akumatize all want something. I give them the opportunity to obtain what they want, whether it be revenge or justice or power, and in return, they are to give me what _I_ want. But _you..._ ” Gabriel stepped closer to her again, backing her further up against the wall, blocking off any exit, “—you only want to leave this place. And that’s never going to happen.”

Marinette’s tremors returned to her in full force. The belt in Gabriel’s hands was being held only inches away from her. He wasn’t poised to strike at the moment, but he didn’t need to be. He was fast. And he was strong. 

“I’m also not so foolish as to provide you with any sort of magic,” he trailed on. “Given your intense range of emotions and your extensive history with the miraculous, akumatizing you would only be creating an unstable weapon. You likely wouldn’t even be safe from yourself.”

Marinette blinked in surprise. 

Despite his claim of honesty a bit ago, she found herself jarred that Gabriel had actually answered her question so, well—honestly. 

_An unstable weapon..._

In a way, he was saying she was strong—too strong to be akumatized. Too skilled with miraculous magic. He wouldn’t be able to control her. 

And Marinette understood exactly what he meant. 

“Like Chat Blanc,” she murmured.

The sea of destroyed buildings she’d witnessed all that time ago flashed in her mind. The blinding light of the Mega-Cataclysm. The bodies in the water. She could see it all now as clearly as she could back then. 

“Chat Blanc?” Gabriel’s voice echoed carefully, snapping Marinette back to the present. He was eyeing her skeptically, still standing too close to her.

Marinette gulped. 

Gabriel didn’t remember Chat Blanc. She’d made it so that no one did. Not even Chat himself knew. And it was supposed to stay that way. 

“I-It’s nothing,” she said, flicking her gaze down away from Gabriel. 

God she was such a bad liar. And it seemed Gabriel was quite aware of this too. As always. 

Moving quickly and precisely, he brought the belt down against her upper arm in a strong strike to her bare skin. “Look. At. Me.” he barked.

Tears flew automatically from Marinette’s lashes, not even from crying, but from the sheer force of the stinging pain. “It’s nothing, I-I swear,” she insisted as she complied with his order and looked up to him. “I-I don’t know what I—”

“I will give you one last chance,” Gabriel said dangerously, cutting off her rambling. “Stop lying, and tell me what it means.”

Marinette bit her lip as tears began to drip more quickly down onto her cheeks. There was nothing she could say. She didn’t have a script to get herself out of this one. The world just kept spinning around her. And her legs kept shaking. The chains on her wrists wouldn’t stop rattling. 

There was only one fate for her, and Marinette had no choice but to accept it. 

Faintly, she shook her head from side to side. “No.”

With a click of his tongue, Gabriel flipped her around and roughly shoved her up against the wall with a sturdy hand pressed between her shoulder blades, moving too fast for Marinette to comprehend in her starving, dehydrated state. As he held her in place, his other hand brought the belt down hard against her upper arm again. And then again. And then he moved his aim down to strike her lower back with the belt where her flimsy cotton dress did little to stifle the pain. Marinette squealed loudly with every blow. Her arms were trapped in their cuffs between her stomach and the wall. She couldn’t pull them apart. She couldn’t do _anything._

But she still tried. She squirmed and struggled like mad to get away. 

“Tell me what it means,” Gabriel’s voice growled in her ear. 

Marinette ignored him. Instead she focused all of her attention on her struggle to get away from the hand pinning her to the wall like a rock. She wasn’t really sure how she even had the energy to fight anymore, she must have been running on nothing but adrenaline by now. But she could work with that. 

Before long, her struggles began to turn into success, and she started to worm her way out of Gabriel’s hold. She was finally starting to do something right. She was finally able to get away.

Or, she would have been able to get away, if not for the hand that suddenly grabbed a fistful of her dress from behind, latching onto the fabric like a panther sinking its claws into its prey. 

“Ridiculous,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. 

Marinette tried desperately to regain her balance as he began to drag her across the room towards the bed, but everything was moving too fast, and her body was hurting so much. Then without warning, a hand was shoving the side of her head down to the mattress, forcing Marinette to bend over onto the side of the bed while her knees dropped down below her, though she wasn’t even tall enough for them to reach the floor. 

“Please—stop—” Marinette panicked through choked breaths. 

Gabriel only tsked behind her, keeping her head held down against the mattress with his fingers knotted in her hair. “So disobedient,” he crooned with his signature faux sympathy lacing every word. 

It was incredible, really, how with every meeting, Gabriel still managed to provide Marinette with a greater sensation of terror than the last. She’d thought she’d been scared back in his lair, and the other day when he’d crushed her hand, but now...

“You know the sooner you start obeying me,” he said from behind her, “the sooner you won’t have to feel so much _pain._ ” Gabriel finished his sentence with a hard strike against her lower back from the belt now that he had her laid out conveniently beneath him.

Marinette’s jaw fell open as the impact seared through her. Her dress would do nothing to stop the dark bruise that was bound to form. 

“Chat Blanc would be Chat Noir’s akumatized form, correct?” Gabriel questioned. 

“N-No.” 

Another strike plowed into her back. 

“That’s ‘No, _sir_ ,’” Gabriel spat. 

Marinette didn’t respond. She couldn’t have even if she’d wanted to. 

But Gabriel was relentless. He came at her with another strike. And then another. “ _Say it_!” he demanded, lashing the belt down upon her back again without even giving her a chance to comply. 

“Sir!” Marinette screamed as the pain plowed through her. She didn’t care anymore. If it was just her pride that Gabriel wanted, then he could have it. The only thing that mattered was keeping the information from him. 

“Hm, so then tell me, little bug,” his voice danced around her, “if I’ve akumatized that cat of yours before, why don’t I remember it?”

Marinette stayed silent, using the pause in Gabriel’s assault to gasp in breaths of air as she clung onto her consciousness. There was nothing she could’ve told him anyway. Every time she opened her mouth, she only made things worse. And if she told Gabriel the truth, that he didn’t remember any of it because Chat Blanc had killed him, that she’d had to erase the future in order to bring everyone back to life...it would not exactly go down well. 

And Marinette was not keen on pissing Gabriel off further. If that was even possible.

So she kept quiet. Just breathing. 

In. And out. 

In. And—

Marinette’s head was still being shoved down into the comforter of the bed, but suddenly another hand was pushing her dress up, riding the soft cotton up her back, exposing the bare skin of her legs and her back to the air of the yellow room.

Marinette went rigid. Her veins flooded with a burning fear. 

This was too far. Even for him. 

“S-Stop! Stop!” she yelled, her voice half-muffled into the comforter, her hands still trapped beneath her body and the bed. Marinette wasn’t even sure how she still had a voice to yell with. She couldn’t even breathe. “P-Please don’t—”

Her words cut off into a yelp as Gabriel brought the belt down against the bare skin of her back. Heavy leather dug into her delicate flesh, though Gabriel seemed to refrain from hitting her spine dead on. Instead he marked up the sides of her lower back, using the expanse of her skin as if it were a canvas. 

After a handful of strikes, he paused, leaning back down over her ear. “Why don’t I remember,” he asked again. His voice was lower now. More threatening.

“I-I...c-c—” Marinette found that speaking was very difficult over her sobs. Until that moment, she hadn’t even realized she was sobbing. “I-I...c-can’t.”

The world around her was a blur of yellow as she received another strike. And then another. 

Gabriel’s voice continued to growl in her ears. “I’m taking his miraculous regardless, so you might as well save yourself the pain and just tell me.” 

“But I-I _can’t_ ,” she cried. This wasn’t fair. Even if she did tell him the truth, he wouldn’t have believed her in a million years. 

“Oh?” he scoffed. “Then perhaps you _can_ tell me what you did to your kwami to make her so powerless in my possession. She claims to be ‘sick,’ but I know this is just another one of your little tricks. What did you really do to her?”

Marinette’s brain was almost too frazzled to comprehend Gabriel’s total one-eighty. 

“Tikki’s...sick?” she asked through raspy breaths. 

Gabriel only scoffed again, delivering a particularly hard blow to her back. Marinette wondered if she was bleeding. 

“I know you’re just trying to keep me from using her powers,” Gabriel snapped. “Tell me what you did to her.” 

“But I—I didn’t—” Marinette rushed out, tripping over her breath. “I don’t know what you’re—”

As she'd expected, even when she told him the truth, it still only earned her another hit. 

And another. 

“What about the other miraculous?” Gabriel demanded. “How many are there?” 

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to stifle a scream. 

There were nineteen miraculous in Paris. She and Chat had two. Hawk Moth and Mayura also had two. Master Fu wore one. Fourteen were kept in the Miracle Box. 

“I don’t know,” she answered. 

Another strike blew against her back. 

She would have hoped by now that it would hurt less, that she’d have gotten used to the intensity of the pounding pain. 

She didn’t. 

“Then what about your ‘special powers,'” Gabriel continued. “The ice suit? The water suit? Those are more than just transforming with your kwami.”

Marinette coughed harshly into the bed. “S-So you’re doing this,” she wheezed out, “because—because the great Hawk Moth—feels left out of the _mermaid club_?” 

Gabriel struck the belt down right in the most tender spot he’d created. She only half-regretted saying it. 

“You know if you don’t start talking," he threatened, "what do you think will happen to your family? To your parents?" 

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut. Chat would protect them, that’s what would happen. Marinette had to believe he would. She _knew_ that he would. Gabriel was only trying to scare her into spilling secrets, and she would never let herself fall for it. No matter how terrified he made her.

Upon the next strike to her back, Marinette’s eyes blew open again, blinking automatically through the searing pain. 

This was just an endless paradox. Gabriel wouldn’t stop his assault until she started answering his questions, but she would never do it. She’d take the secrets to her grave. 

If Marinette wanted this to stop, then she had to make it stop herself. 

The nightstand a few feet away from her swam into her vision while Gabriel continued his art work on her back. On the nightstand was the tray Nathalie had brought in, though it was hard for Marinette to hone her focus on it when it kept moving around behind the tear-soaked strands of hair that had flung into her eyes.

But she could still see the tray clearly enough. And on the tray was a plate—a plate which seemed to be lit up by her mind, as if everything else in the world had faded to hues of grey.

Marinette would only have one shot at this. 

She had to make it count. 

The moment Gabriel reached his next pause, allowing the most recent flare of pain on her back to die down, Marinette acted. 

She channeled every scrap of energy and coherence she had left, fueling all of it into her legs, and with a single kick, she shoved the heels of her feet right into Gabriel’s shins.

The hand holding her head down vanished. 

Marinette didn’t waste even a second. Instantly, she darted for the plate. Her legs were wobbly and she fumbled over them on the way—but she was still close enough to the nightstand to reach it. Grabbing the plate with her left hand, she dumped the sandwich off it, ignoring the way her back screamed in protest at her movements, ignoring everything around her except for how she was smashing the plate down against the nightstand. 

She turned her head away as the shards went flying. When she looked back, she found that a large piece with a very sharp edge remained in her hand. Adjusting her grip on it, she immediately whirled back around to face Gabriel, the piece of broken plate wielded between her fingers as though it were a dagger. 

Apparently, she had turned around just in time before Gabriel could catch up to her. 

He froze in his approach, and Marinette froze just the same with heavy pants leaving her lips. She had the sharp edge of the broken plate shard aimed at his chest from where she stood backed between him and the nightstand.

She wasn’t actually going to do anything. She just needed Gabriel to _think_ she would. Really, she just needed a moment to come up with her next step. She just needed one second to think—

But then Gabriel moved. It was so fast, Marinette’s eyes couldn’t follow it. One moment the broken piece of the plate was still being wielded in her hand, and by the next, brawny fingers had already wrapped around her left wrist and twisted the shard out of her grasp—meanwhile something else had struck the back of her knees, knocking her down to the floor. 

The world fell down around Marinette. 

She tried to steady her vision, but it kept falling out of focus. She tried to breathe. She tried to scream. She tried to think. But it was so hard. In front of her was...Gabriel. He had picked up the plate shard. He was pointing it right back at her throat.

Marinette scrambled backwards on the floor as she realized what he was doing. Though with nowhere to go, her back bumped into the nightstand.

The pain momentarily blinded her. Stars burned themselves against her eyelids. 

When they faded a few seconds later, Marinette saw that the jagged shard poised at her throat had only followed her.

She had heard before that in moments like these, a person’s life was supposed to flash before their eyes. Marinette found now that that wasn’t really the case. Her life had been filled with so many people. So many memories. 

But all she could see right now was Chat. 

“You won’t do it,” she whispered, staying as still as she possibly could through her shaking as Gabriel kept the tip of the shard steadily in place, mere centimeters from her neck. 

He probably would do it. Gabriel had already made one wound on her neck, what was another to him? 

“Y-You won’t,” Marinette repeated. She only saw Chat. His face. His smile. She needed to last long enough to see him again with her own two eyes. She needed to hold him with her own two hands. “You wouldn’t—”

“Of course I won’t do it,” Gabriel said as if that were obvious, though he still had yet to remove the shard from its aim at her throat. “You’re just a little bug who needs to learn her place.” 

In one fluid motion, he moved the plate shard down away from her throat to somewhere out of her line of sight, and the tension in Marinette’s body evaporated, her cheeks soaked with tears both old and fresh. 

“You’ll tell me what I want to know eventually,” Gabriel said without a trace of doubt in his voice. He straightened himself up from where he’d been hovering over her and slid a hand through the hair on the top of her head, forcing her head up to follow him. “I have all the time in the world to train you like the pet you are.”

Marinette simply sat where she was. She heard Gabriel’s words, but she wasn’t seeing him. She wasn’t seeing anything anymore. She didn’t want to see anything anymore. 

She didn’t want to hear any more of his words. 

She didn’t want to feel anything. Especially not pain.

“Chat..." The name leaked out brokenly from her lips. As if sobbing her partner’s name could somehow make any of this better. 

All it did was cause Gabriel’s voice to sound out sternly around her. “Chat won’t be coming until I bring him here myself. The only thing that can help you now is obeying me.”

Marinette’s head fell against the side of the bed as his hand left her hair. She couldn’t see Gabriel. The world kept moving. She kept falling. 

She heard footsteps, and somewhere in the distance a door closed. A lock clicked. 

And the world kept right on falling. 


	9. The Curator

“I spy something, uhh, white.”

A chorus of groans rang out beside Adrien. An elbow tapped against his arm. 

“You can’t pick clouds every time, man,” Nino scolded with a light-hearted laugh.

Adrien pouted. “But that’s all I can see right now.” From the picnic blanket he was lying on, his view was limited to only the muted blue of the midday sky and the white clouds it carried within it. Both of which Adrien had already used as objects during his turns in the game. 

Beside him, also stretched out on their backs atop the blanket, laid Nino and Alya. The tops of all three of their heads brushed against each other where they met in the middle of the circle they’d formed, and hidden between their bodies, unseen to Adrien’s bodyguard who was sat on a bench across the park, were three little magic kwamis all munching away, each on their favorite snack of choice. 

It was nothing short of surreal for Adrien to be spending his lunch break in the park across the street from the school accompanied by Rena Rouge and Carapace sans the masks. And yet the familiarity of their company was remarkably comforting. 

With Marinette still missing, and Master Fu still in China, Adrien’s overworked mind had nothing to do today but to fret and wait. Which was exactly why Nino (and Wayzz) had insisted that they all spend at least one hour of their day _not_ focusing on things that were out of their hands, and instead simply take a break and relax in the park. 

Adrien had obviously been resistant to the idea. This was an entire hour he could be patrolling. The need to pluck Marinette out of Hawk Moth’s dirty hands was an insatiable itch that disturbed his every movement. And Alya and Nino were clearly suffering from it too. But Nino had dragged them all out into the park regardless, and so now as Adrien bathed in the sunlight, watching the clouds move slowly across the sky with the gentle breeze brushing through his hair, he realized that perhaps Nino’s idea hadn’t been _completely_ crazy after all. 

“Adrien,” Alya said from beside him, “I’m only saying this because I love you: You are terrible at I Spy.” 

Adrien snorted. “Okay, okay. I’ve got a new one this time.” He cleared his throat for dramatic effect. “I spy something that smells like rotten cheese.”

“That’s not even a color.”

“Oh! Oh!” a high-pitched voice rang out. An orange dot burst out in front of Adrien, flying around in front of his face excitedly. “I know this one!” Trixx exclaimed. “It’s Plagg!” 

“You bet it is,” called another voice. This one was distinctly distorted by a mouth full of what Adrien knew by the sound alone was rotten cheese. 

A smile quirked up on Adrien’s lips as he held an open palm into the air. “That’s ten points for Trixx,” he said, and the energetic kwami high-fived his hand with a cheer before darting down into the grass as a pair of patrons in the park strolled by.

“There are no _points_ in I Spy,” Alya reprimanded. 

Adrien reached out an index finger to pet Trixx’s soft head in the grass. “Then your kwami must be really good because he has ten.” 

“Yeah!” Trixx beamed. “I have ten!”

Adrien could feel the movement of Alya’s head shaking in dismay against his. 

“Terrible,” she said. “You are terrible at this game.”

Adrien’s small smile only grew. He’d been so worried the day before about revealing his identity to Alya and Nino, and about the consequences of learning their identities in return. After all, these were deep secrets that had built up for a very long time, and with them they carried so many dangers.

But now, after finally taking a sledgehammer to the walls that had been so carefully crafted around their identities, Adrien found that more than anything else, he simply felt free. It was like a giant weight had been lifted off his chest—one that he hadn’t actually realized had grown there. It was probably the only reason he could even relax like he was at the moment. Because even if Hawk Moth decided to strike with a new akuma right at that moment, Adrien knew that he wouldn’t be alone in fighting it. All three of them were ready. And they would be stronger than ever.

Adrien only wished Marinette could be here to relish in that freedom with him. 

“Okay, it’s my turn,” said Nino. “I spy someth—”

“Oh my God, Ladybug’s in love with me,” Adrien blurted. Loudly. His hand flew up to cover his mouth in shock as his friends let out another round of groans.

“ _Dude_.”

“Bro...” 

“Kid—”

But Adrien flipped over onto his stomach, propping himself up onto his elbows. “No, you guys don’t get it. _Ladybug’s_ in love with _me_.”

Alya followed, turning onto her stomach as well, though only so she could flick his shoulder. “Duh. We told you that yesterday.”

“Yeah, but you said _Marinette_.”

A crease formed on Alya’s forehead as her eyebrows furrowed, and without warning she shoved a hand flat against Adrien’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay? Like I know this is big news and all, but...”

“Yeah—no—I’m fine,” Adrien said, patting her hand away. “It’s just that all this time Ladybug has never gone out with me because she always said she was in love with someone _else_ in her civilian life. And she never told me who it was because of our identities. But Ladybug is _Marinette_ , and Marinette has a crush on _Adrien_ , and for the last day everything’s just been happening so fast, and I didn’t realize that—”

“Ladybug’s in looove with you?” Nino teased.

Adrien’s cheeks were beginning to burn. “Well—yeah!”

At the center of their circle, Plagg rolled over lazily inside a freshly emptied box of Camembert, and drawled out, “The boy’s a genius.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Wayzz chirped from where he was sitting beside the box.

As the group around Adrien grew into a fit of giggles, Adrien rested his chin down to his arm on the blanket, his fingers beginning to pick mindlessly at the fabric. Now that his thoughts had trailed back to Marinette and her feelings for him, the need to find her only began to grow again. It was like a surge that pulsed through him, twisting his stomach and tightening his chest, cutting off his air in a way that wouldn’t let up until he had her safe in his arms again. 

Revealing his identity to Alya and Nino had been freeing, sure, but already Adrien could feel the pleasant sensation fleeting from him. Freedom didn’t mean anything if Marinette was still in captivity. Maybe Adrien shouldn’t even be here in the park right now. He should probably be out patrolling. He should be looking for her, she was counting on him.

A hand landed down on his shoulder. 

“Adrien, it’s okay, man,” Nino said softly. “We’ll find her.” All the teasing in his tone was gone. 

Adrien kept his gaze fixed strictly on the fabric of the blanket between his fingertips. “I know,” he said quietly. “It’s just that Ladybug and I...well, we’ve always been together through everything. The thought of her being in danger when I can’t be there to help her, it’s like I can’t breathe.”

“You _are_ going to help her,” Alya said firmly. Determination radiated from her voice. “As soon as the Guardian gets back from China, we’ll be able to find out exactly where Marinette is, and then we'll kick some serious Hawk Moth butt! We’ve got this.”

The kwamis cheered with Alya’s triumphant words, but the uneasy feeling swarming inside Adrien’s stomach only worsened. 

He pinched a tiny thread between his fingers. “That’s what concerns me.” 

Alya’s enthusiasm faltered. 

“What do you mean?” 

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, Adrien lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of those around him against thick air trying to weigh him down.

“Ladybug is the strongest person I know,” he said. “She’s unbelievably clever, she can get herself out of anything. She’s so...so indestructible. You’ve all seen it. I mean, I know she relies on our help and we all have to work together, but have you guys honestly ever seen a time where she didn’t hand an akuma’s ass right back to them?”

A sea of troubled looks settled upon the faces surrounding Adrien. None of them said a word.

“Exactly. So if Ladybug went up against Hawk Moth himself and lost, I mean if he actually managed to take her miraculous and detain her, then, maybe we don’t really know what we’re up against here.” 

The group remained silent for a few moments more before Adrien finished with, “I just don’t think saving Marinette is going to be as simple as waltzing in to wherever Hawk Moth’s holding her and throwing a few punches around.”

Nino adjusted his cap with a precise care. “Maybe you’re right,” he said tentatively, “but it’s not hopeless. We’ll have three of us against him. And once we know where Marinette is, we can make a plan before we go. We won’t be going in blind.”

“Yeah,” Alya chimed. “Everyone’s looking for her right now, and with the spell, we’ll find her in no time. Even if Hawk Moth is more powerful than we thought, knowing that now means we can plan around it. We’ll have all the advantages on him.”

Adrien turned his gaze back down to his fingers. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

But he knew that even though everything Nino and Alya said might’ve technically been true, those two were also still surfing the high of being granted their miraculous full-time. It had barely been even twenty-four hours. Of course they would feel on top of the world right now. And while their optimism was welcomed, it was also a double-edged sword, blinding them from the obvious. 

Because frankly, if Hawk Moth was strong enough to defeat Ladybug, then the three of them were toast.

“We just have to focus on finding her right now,” Nino said. “Then we’ll go from there. And that whole thing your dad did this morning, Adrien, announcing that he’s funding an investigation for her and then promoting even more awareness to the press, that was really cool of him. I always thought he was kind of a stickler—er, no offense—”

Adrien huffed out a dry laugh. “None taken.”

“—But I gotta say, your pops actually came through this time.”

“Totally,” Alya agreed. “Like with _the_ Gabriel Agreste telling people to look for her, _everyone_ will be keeping an eye out.”

“Yeah, I was a little surprised myself,” Adrien admitted. He lifted a forearm from the blanket to prop his chin into his palm. “I didn’t think my father would go through all this for one of my friends. Although...” A blade of grass found its way into the fingers of his free hand. “With such a sudden disappearance, I mean, that kind of...you know...hits close to home. And Marinette was basically going to be my father’s next junior fashion protégé, so I guess it makes sense that he’d care.”

“Well it’s _weird_ if you ask me,” Plagg blurted from his Camembert box. 

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Plagg...” 

“I’m serious!” he insisted. “That man is always so selfish.”

“Well—Yes, a lot of the things he does are selfish,” Adrien acknowledged. “...But he wasn’t always like that.” Adrien flicked the now-crumpled blade of grass from his fingertips, and a fresh one took its place. “After my mother disappeared, my father, he...he changed. He just became so much colder, and he started staying holed up in his office all the time. I don’t think he really ever stopped drowning himself in his grief. And now with Marinette disappearing out of the blue just like her...I think he’s just finally noticed how I’ve been feeling these last few days, and so now he’s helping look for her because he doesn’t want me to have to—to lose someone again.”

Adrien let go of the grass altogether, instead turning to pet Plagg’s small head as he exhaled a long sigh, shaking off the heavy atmosphere. “I don’t know, I’m just glad that my father’s helping. I mean, obviously his private detectives can’t actually track down _Hawk Moth,_ especially when they don’t even know they’re supposed to be looking for him, but I guess it’s just nice that my father’s caring about someone besides himself for a change.” 

Alya hummed thoughtfully as he finished speaking. “And hey,” she added in a supportive voice, “at least your dad’s secret-detective-spy-people can rule out places for us to search.”

Adrien sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. If my father will spill any details to me.”

Nino, who for the last few minutes had seemed to be deep in concentration, suddenly said, “Yo, how do you guys think Marinette will react when she finds out we all know each other’s identities?”

Adrien couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Oh, she’s gonna kill me for sure,” he said. Then he turned his attention down to the small kwami purring under his hand. “Actually, correction: she’s gonna kill me _and_ Plagg.”

“Hey!” the vibrating black blob protested.

“Well you _were_ the one that told me their identities.”

Wayzz nodded in agreement in a way that reminded Adrien of a wise old monk. “Adrien does have a point."

“Yeah, how did you even do that anyway?” Adrien asked down to Plagg. “Marinette was missing for two days and you couldn’t tell me her identity because of ‘magic,’ but then you just blurted out Alya’s and Nino’s like you were announcing the next freaking American Idol winners.”

Plagg snickered, shrugging his tiny arms like he didn’t know or care.

Adrien sucked in a breath, planning to say something particularly snippy in retaliation—but that was when he heard it. A scream. And not the scream of one of the children playing in the park, but a scream of terror. It sounded like it had come from a couple blocks away. 

An akuma. 

More screams followed, coming from the same direction as the first. The other patrons of the park were beginning to register what was happening now as well, and within a few seconds people were running away in all directions. 

Adrien looked back to the group on the blanket. 

“Guys—”

“On it!”

Thankfully the chaos of the crowd provided Adrien the cover he needed to evade his bodyguard and run across the street to the nearest alleyway with Alya and Nino close on his heels. They all hid in the shadows of the alley, bright lights of green and orange lighting up the walls around them. It was the first time Adrien had ever transformed around someone that wasn’t Master Fu or Ladybug. And it was certainly the first time that Adrien had been allowed to watch anyone _else_ transform. Well, besides Bunnyx, but that didn’t really count since she was from the future.

More screams rang out from the street, sounding closer than before, and Chat Noir met the eyes of the two superheroes standing beside him. 

It was the first time that he held the sole responsibility of being the leader. 

He would not let Ladybug down.

“Let’s go.”

With a pair of matching nods, the three of them leapt back out into the street, and a new fire burned within Chat.

It was the first time that Hawk Moth had really made things personal like this. Chat would not let him get away with it.

“Remember,” he called out to his teammates as they ran, “we won’t have a Lucky Charm this time, so we need to keep the damage to a minimum. And I’ll need to save my—” 

Chat skidded in his tracks as he turned a corner and _something_ ran past him. 

He blinked. It was like a person, but...not quite. And there were more of them. 

“What _are_ those?” Carapace called out beside him. Chat extended his baton to jump across the street and landed himself directly in front of one of the—the _things,_ cutting off its path so he could have a chance to study it for a moment. 

It had a face very much like a person’s, but somehow it didn’t look real. And the colors...

Chat gasped. “It’s a painting.” An old painting, to be precise. Like something from a museum, like Renaissance art. 

The painting-person skirted around him, continuing its flee, and Chat turned back to his teammates, calling out, “Guys, they’re just harmless citizens who’ve been transformed into paintings! They’re not the akuma!” 

“That’s right,” a voice answered back. But it didn’t belong to Rena Rouge or Carapace. It wasn’t a voice Chat recognized at all. “I am,” the voice finished. 

Chat whirled around to find a young man standing up ahead of him in the street who had definitely not been standing there a moment ago. His wavy, shoulder-length brown hair was capped under a beret, and he was dressed from head to toe in splashes of all sorts of different colors, as if he’d been wearing all white until someone had thrown ten different cans of paint on him at once. 

In his hands, he held a large wooden paint brush. Its tip was splashed with color just the same as his clothes.

“Nobody appreciates _real_ art anymore,” the self-proclaimed akuma called out to them. “All the masterpieces of history, so alive, so beautiful, and they’ve been left forgotten by today’s ungrateful generation.”

Chat had to stop himself from groaning outwardly.

“Well I, the Curator,” the akuma exclaimed, “am going to make sure that _everyone_ appreciates classic art! I’ll turn them all into these very paintings they despise the most!” 

Rena Rouge did not hold back her groan. “Is this dude for real?”

“Oh, I’m very real,” the Curator replied. “But soon _you_ will not be!” He thrust out the hand holding the paint brush in Rena’s direction, and a line of paint that seemed to ever be changing color was flung through the air.

“Watch out!” Carapace barked. 

Rena was already on it, leaping onto a nearby rooftop in a flash of orange as the paint splatter hit the cement right where she’d been standing. Chat watched with only semi-surprise as the ground where the splatter landed was transformed into a painted texture, the same as that of the people who had run by. 

It certainly wasn’t the weirdest akuma Hawk Moth had ever made.

But Chat would very much prefer it to be the last.

He turned back to the akuma, wielding his baton out in a stance ready to fight. “Cut to the chase and tell us where Hawk Moth is!” he yelled. The need to save Marinette was gripping his chest more powerfully than anything he’d felt in these last three days. But instead of choking him, he found that here it only fueled him. “Now!” he demanded.

The Curator simply laughed that same maniacal laugh every akuma seemed to default to. “Oh? Now why would I care about a thing like that? I only wish to spread the love of art. So why don’t you give me your miraculous, kitty, and I promise I’ll paint you into a true beauty. It would be such a big improvement from the mangy tomcat you are now.”

Chat tutted his tongue, spinning his baton around skillfully through his fingers. “You want mangy? I’ll give you mangy.” 

And then he leapt. 

And the scene burst into action around him. 

The akuma ran, racing down the nearby streets, turning everyone he could find into disturbing works of art. And the three heroes chased after him, always right behind him but never able to get close enough to reach him without almost getting splashed with paint themselves. 

There was no telling what would happen to their powers if they got splashed. And there would be no Miraculous Ladybug this time to fix anything that did. Avoiding the paint was critical.

A few blocks into the chase, the Curator suddenly changed his course, hopping up onto a rooftop away from the citizens that were scrambling in fear on the streets. Chat didn’t know why the Curator would want to go up high where there wasn’t anyone for him to aim for, but sometimes akumas were just not the brightest beings in the universe, so Chat followed suit anyway with his fellow heroes right beside him. 

But as soon as all of them had landed on the roof, the Curator stopped. He turned around to face them before standing as still as a statue, his face completely blank of any emotion. 

The abruptness caught Chat off guard. He stopped in place as well, still a few yards from catching up to the Curator, which caused Rena Rouge and Carapace to nearly collide into his back as they too came to a halt on either side of him. 

The heroes stood panting, ready for a showdown on the rooftop, three versus one. But the Curator remained motionless. 

“What is he—” Carapace started, but he cut off as a glowing purple light in the shape of a butterfly appeared over the Curator’s eyes. 

The Curator adjusted his head, turning his attention to the three of them as if he were actually seeing them again.

“Hello, heroes,” he said slowly. But the butterfly still glowed brightly upon his face, his body unnaturally stiff.

It wasn’t the Curator who was speaking to them anymore. 

Chat clenched his clawed fingers tightly around his baton. “ _Hawk Moth_.”

The Curator smiled. “It’s so nice to talk face to face like this every once in a while, isn’t it? Though, one, two… My, my, it appears you lot are short a hero today. Where ever could she be? I do hope nothing troublesome has happened to her.”

Time seemed to come to a halt for Chat, every drop of blood in his body freezing into ice. 

Hawk Moth really... He... He really took her?

It wasn’t that Chat hadn’t _known,_ but until that moment it had been something out of his reach. Hearing the disgusting words from the man himself was like slamming the reality right into Chat's face, making it tangible. Making it painful. 

Rena Rouge stepped forward snarling, the fox ears on her head pinned back flat. “What did you do to her!” she demanded. 

“So quick to accuse _me_?” Hawk Moth asked with the Curator’s stolen voice, though in no way did he attempt to conceal his crime.

Rena was not having it. “We know it was you, so tell us what you did to her!” 

“Oh, nothing that won’t heal in time,” he tossed out casually. It made it impossible to tell whether Hawk Moth was just trying to rile them up, or if he was actually admitting to having _hurt_ Marinette.

A low growl left Chat Noir’s throat. “I swear to God, if you’ve laid a single finger on her— ”

“Oh believe me, I’ve laid several,” Hawk Moth assured, fixing the Curator’s hollow gaze pointedly on Chat. “She screams out for you, you know. When she’s in pain.”

The akuma might’ve been decked out in a rainbow of colors, but now Chat was only seeing red. He lunged after the akuma, claws raised—except someone was holding him back before he could swipe them. Chat whipped his head to the side to find a body of green whose arms wrapped around his torso tightly. 

“Chat, don't,” Carapace spoke carefully into his ear. “That’s just an akuma victim, we can’t hurt him. We can’t fix the damage.”

Chat ignored him, grunting loudly as he attempted to get out of his friend’s hold, but Carapace did not let him budge, and Chat screamed to the akuma over the arms confining him. “Give her back to me!”

Hawk Moth lifted the Curator’s face with an amused expression like a master puppeteer pulling the strings of his puppet. “I might be persuaded to do such a thing,” he pondered. “In exchange for your miraculous, of course.”

Chat’s face twisted. “Are you insane?” 

Hawk Moth had pulled some ridiculous stunts in the past, but actually going so far as to kidnap Ladybug and use her life as a bargaining chip for a miraculous—this was an entirely new level of evil. 

“We’re not giving you our miraculous!” Rena Rouge raged from beside Chat. 

The amusement on the Curator’s face only seemed to grow. “You say that now, but you wouldn’t leave your precious little bug all on her own for long, would you? Are you not her protectors?” 

When none of the superheroes dared to answer, the Curator’s voice hummed in a smug tone. “That’s what I thought. So that is why I’m being generous enough to give you all three days.”

“What are you talking about,” Chat spat. 

Hawk Moth’s voice gained an edge of seriousness. “You have three days to come to your senses and hand over your miraculous. And when you do, all that is required of you is to bring them to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I’ll know when they’re there.” 

Distantly the heavy chopping of a helicopter taking flight reached Chat’s ears. If they stayed out in the open on this rooftop for much longer, the news reporters would catch up to them, and the last thing they needed was any part of this mess getting leaked to the press.

“This is stupid,” Chat said, jerking his arm out of Carapace’s lessened hold. He took a firm step forward and brandished his baton out beside himself. “We’re not playing your little game, Hawk Moth. Give Ladybug and her miraculous back to us right now, or we’ll take her back ourselves.”

The Curator’s expression didn’t show even the slightest concern at Chat’s threatening tone. “You have three days,” he repeated. “And in the meantime, I’ll be taking good care of that little bug, don’t you worry. Though I must say, she has quite the temper once you take the mask away, doesn’t she? But rough her up a bit, and she becomes so fragile, begging for her kitten.” Hawk Moth paused, using the Curator’s gaze to look Chat up and down with distaste. “Oh, well I guess you never did care to see who was underneath the mask, did you. Such a pity—”

At that moment something small and orange went flying through the air, whirling past Chat at eye level, and then the beret on top of the Curator’s head was falling to the dirty ground of the rooftop. Rena Rouge followed after it a second later, moving every bit as nimbly as the fox she was dressed to be as she retrieved her flute and the beret from the ground, tossing the latter to Chat, and doing it all before the Curator could react.

“Shut him up, will you,” she called as Chat Noir caught the beret easily in his hand.

The akuma. He’d assumed it was in the paint brush as that was where the Curator’s powers seemed to stem from. But he didn’t have time to question it. He dug his claws into the fabric, tearing it apart, and surely enough, a blackened butterfly materialized a moment later, flying up leisurely into the air. 

Chat’s instinct was to step back and let Ladybug perform her purification routine. It felt horribly wrong as he instead dropped the beret and called forth his Cataclysm only so he could swipe his claws through the butterfly itself as well.

As its lifeless wings fell to the ground, the magic dissolved from the Curator, leaving behind an ordinary young man dressed in plain clothes, nothing like the jarring array of colors he’d adorned a moment before. 

The relief Chat felt at the sight was minimal. 

“What’s going on? Where am I?” the man asked. 

Chat picked up the torn beret from the ground and walked over to hand it back to its owner. “Sorry about your hat,” he said quietly, and as he approached the man up close, he noticed there was a small name tag clipped onto his shirt. It read ‘Alexandre’, and engraved at the top was the familiar logo of the Louvre Museum. 

“Was I—Was I akumatized?” he asked as he accepted the beret, seeming to come out of his daze.

Chat gave him a shallow nod. “Yeah. But it’s over now. You’re, um, you’re safe now. I think.” 

As further confusion contorted Alexandre’s face, Carapace stepped up to them, patting Alexandre firmly on the shoulder. “Okay, let’s get you back to the Louvre, sir.” 

“Oh, yes please,” Alexandre enthused politely. It was nothing at all like the taunting tone he’d used when he’d been hunting down the citizens, nor did it hold any trace of the evil pleasure that Hawk Moth had poured into him. “I was in the middle of my shift,” Alexandre explained. “I’m a curator there.”

Carapace smiled a little too tightly. “I bet you are.” He offered a green hand, and Alexandre latched on.

Not granting time for any more questions, Carapace gave one curt nod, and launched out into the sky in the direction of the museum. 

Chat watched them disappear out of sight before turning back to Rena, the two of them now alone on the rooftop as the sound of the helicopter grew louder. It would have visual on them any second now. If it didn’t already. 

“How did you know the akuma was in the beret?” Chat asked in a hushed voice. 

Rena toyed with the flute in her hands. “Well...at first I thought it was in the paint brush,” she admitted. “But then I thought, if he really was a curator, then he wouldn’t be the one actually doing the painting, he would only be observing it, so it was unlikely that the paintbrush was something he’d been holding before the akuma took over him. And as an akuma, the beret was the only other notable object on him, so... I just figured...”

Chat could feel the faintest smile wanting to tug at his lips. Instead a weary tear made its escape down onto his mask. He wiped it away quickly with the back of his gloved hand. “You girls are so clever,” he said almost breathlessly. 

The warning beep from his ring was nearly drowned out by the helicopter. It was too close to them now. 

Rena stepped closer to him, turning her back to the helicopter, speaking just loud enough for Chat to hear her. “Do you think all the people that were turned into paintings went back to normal?” she asked. She sounded nervous. The complete opposite of the snarling fox that had screamed at Hawk Moth barely a couple minutes earlier.

“All the paintings should have disappeared since we stopped the magic,” Chat answered. “But if anybody was hurt while running away, or if anything was broken...” He hesitated, looking out over the city below him. “We just have to be glad that this akuma wasn’t one for collateral damage.” 

Rena nodded, uncertainty coating her face. “And what about Hawk Moth’s...demand. We can’t actually give him our miraculous.” 

“No way,” Chat agreed. “He’d probably play dirty even if we did do it. So we’re getting Marinette back on our own terms.”

Rena’s foot scraped against the rooftop. It was funny, the little things Chat noticed now, the obvious similarities between Alya and Rena Rouge that had gone right over his head in the past. They only made him yearn to discover the details between Marinette and his Lady. To spend his life watching and learning everything there was to know.

“I, um...” Rena said meekly, “I see what you mean now about us underestimating Hawk Moth.” 

Chat shook his head dismissively. “It’s alright. We’ll use the spell to find out where Marinette is, and then we’ll form a plan. Just like you said.” 

“Yeah, but don’t you think he’ll pull something on us? Like have the place booby trapped or something?”

Had the situation been different, Chat probably would have chuckled at such an idea. Now he only blew out a long breath. 

“I’m sure he will,” he said. 

Rena looked even more concerned. “So what are we gonna do?”

Chat turned to meet her eyes with newly-forming tears mirroring between them both, and her earlier words from the park echoed in his mind. 

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he answered, “We’re gonna kick his butt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adrien's an american idol stan now. sry i don't make the rules 
> 
> fr tho, thank you guys for all the kudos and kind comments during this hectic quarantine schedule ❤️ I'll see u next time ;)


	10. Stolen Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Sabine Cheng adopts a cat, and Marinette has a not awesome time

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news! I’m Nadja Chamack, reporting to you live with three of Paris’s superheroes: Chat Noir, Rena Rouge, and Carapace, after their recent defeat of ‘the Curator’ just minutes ago.”

Chat plastered on a fake smile and waved to the camera as it turned to include him in the frame, with his two teammates standing in place behind him, like a true formation of heroes. 

Chat felt like anything but a hero. 

“Now we all saw the three of you in a high-speed chase with the akuma,” Nadja continued, “but it seemed as though our city’s treasured Ladybug was not present for this battle. I’m sure all of us are wondering, how were you able to save the day without her? Is she nearby?”

During photoshoots and TV interviews in his daily life, Adrien almost always faked his smiles. It had become a second nature for him, the simplest of tasks. But normally he was only trying to hide the fact that he was bored. This smile he wore now was infinitely harder to maintain.

He wasn’t bored here. He was broken. 

“That’s correct,” Chat answered into the large microphone that was promptly held out to him. “Ladybug was not present for this battle. At the moment Ladybug is…taking care of classified business. So until further notice, she will not be participating in any akuma battles.”

“What about the fate of our city?” Nadja asked. “Will Parisians be safe from Hawk Moth’s attacks without her?”

Chat opened his mouth but then closed it again, taking a deep, deep breath behind the smile burning his lips. He wished he could have just avoided this interview entirely. But Hawk Moth had forced them to reveal Ladybug’s absence to the public with his akuma attack, and now Chat was stuck doing on-the-spot PR damage control. 

Thankfully, no outsiders seemed to have heard their conversation with Hawk Moth on the roof, but Chat was still left having to explain an entire missing superhero without causing a city-wide panic in the process. Because if people found out that Ladybug had been captured, then all hell would break loose. 

Chat could only pray that Hawk Moth wouldn’t blow their cover by boasting his capture to everyone.

“Rena Rouge, Carapace, and I will be handling all akumas until Ladybug’s return,” Chat answered carefully. “We are able to defeat akumas just as we always have, however, for the time being…” He glanced over to his teammates for a moment before looking back to the camera with slight hesitance. “…for the time being…we do not have the purification powers to fix any damage done to the city. Please rest assured that everything we do is only for the good of our people, this is simply a bump in the road. My heroes and I promise to do everything in our power to protect our city. We won’t cease until Hawk Moth has been stopped once and for all. In the meantime, we ask that all Parisians take extra precaution during akuma attacks for your safety.”

“Thank you, Chat Noir,” said Nadja. “Do you have any idea when Ladybug will return to us? Where is she now?”

“That is…classified, I’m afraid,” Chat answered. He could see the suppressed fear flashing in Nadja’s eyes behind her own plastered smile. 

“But Ladybug will be returning to us?” she pressed. 

Chat looked from Nadja’s scared eyes, to the crowd of people in the street that had gathered to watch the interview, and then back to the camera where the reflection of his own terrified eyes stared back at him in the lens. 

“Yes,” he answered. “Ladybug will return to us.”

The subtle tension eased in Nadja’s shoulders. “So Ladybug is on a secret mission right now, then?” she asked, this time with more of her normal enthusiasm seeping back into her voice.

“Uh… Sure,” Chat answered. “Something like that.”

He could see a million more questions swimming in Nadja’s eyes, but Chat didn’t think his fake smile would hold out for much longer. Already it was cracking, splintering like glass. If he had to flub his way through any more of Nadja’s questions, it would surely shatter into a thousand pieces.

He’d already said everything he’d needed to anyway. 

“Thank you for the interview, Nadja,” he rushed out before she could squeeze in her next query, “but I believe we must take our leave now.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “We’re always happy to have you. Thank you for your time.”

Chat saluted the camera, and took off into the sky with Rena Rouge and Carapace following his lead, abruptly ending the interview. Together they all landed down on a rooftop several long blocks away, far away enough from the interview spot that no one would have been able to follow them.

As Rena touched down, she immediately let out a giant breath she’d been holding in. “Do you really think people will buy that?” she asked. “A ‘secret mission?’” 

Carapace rubbed her shoulder as if to ease out the tension, and Chat turned away as his attention was captured by a building in the distance. 

“They’ll have to believe it,” he answered. He didn’t turn back to his friends. 

“…Adrien?” Carapace called. “Are you…okay? I know everything that just happened is a lot—”

“I’m sorry,” Chat cut him off. The camera might’ve been gone, but the cracks in him were still spreading. The glass was threatening to shatter. “I have to go do something.” Without another word, Chat leapt off the roof, bounding towards the building in the distance. Towards its balcony. And the bakery below it. 

It only took a minute of gliding through the sky at high speed before he was landing down in front of the familiar bakery door. 

Marinette’s parents deserved to know the truth. Or maybe it would be worse if they did. But either way, Chat had already recharged his miraculous before the interview, granting him unlimited time to tell them. Marinette’s parents had always been so nice to him, whether he was Adrien or Chat. They treated him as if he were their own son. Like how parents _should_ act.

He couldn’t lie to them. 

On the bakery door, a closed sign hung from the inside. It was currently the middle of the day. Chat reached out to knock on the door anyway, but right before his gloved knuckles could tap on the glass, the door opened on its own and Chat jumped back, finding himself face to face with his father who was apparently exiting the bakery.

Chat blinked.

…His father?

“Fa—Erm, Mr. Agreste,” Chat stumbled out in a rush. “W-What are you doing here?”

His father looked him up and down, clearly surprised as well to find himself standing before one of Paris’s magical protectors. Either that, or he was surprised to find his son wearing a mask outside of the Dupain-Cheng’s closed bakery when he should be sitting in a classroom at the high school. 

Chat was hoping for the first one. 

“Chat Noir,” his father nodded in greeting. “The owners of this bakery have a daughter who's gone missing,” he explained, indulging Chat's rash question. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m assisting in their investigation.”

Chat stood ramrod straight, trying to collect himself to keep from looking so suspicious. Not that he was actually _guilty_ of anything (besides technically skipping class), but whenever Adrien was around his father, there was always something for him to be in trouble for. 

But he needed to get it together. He wasn’t Adrien right now. He was Chat Noir. His father wouldn’t be trying to get him in trouble for anything here. 

_Act natural._

“Yes, of course,” Chat replied with the voice of a robot. “I saw on the news this morning. That’s very kind of you.” 

“It’s the least I can do.” 

Chat took a step back out of the way, allowing his father to exit the bakery completely and go on his way. Chat would have entered for himself, but then his father paused, and said, “If I may ask, Chat Noir, what are _you_ doing here? The bakery is closed for business at the moment.”

Nervously, Chat scratched the back of his head with one hand. “Well… I, um, just wanted to tell Marinette’s parents th-that we’re looking for her too. Me and the other heroes.”

The cracks grew. The hint of future tears stung Chat’s eyes. 

Gabriel looked upon him with a quizzical expression, a vast change from the bland nothing-ness Adrien usually received from him. “A superhero helping a missing civilian case?” his father pondered. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of that before. You must know Miss Marinette well then, I presume.” He gestured an open hand to the car waiting for him in the street behind Chat. “Perhaps you can lend useful insight to the investigation.” 

Chat didn’t quite understand.

His father was…inviting him to their house? As a superhero? To discuss Marinette? Chat couldn’t even get his father to sit down with him as Adrien for a single meal at home. And he definitely had not come to Adrien seeking information about Marinette for the ‘investigation.’

Although, that did not exactly come as a surprise seeing as his father never talked with him about _anything_. And with his father’s new-found leaf of sensitivity, he probably just didn’t want to make ‘Adrien’ even more stressed about the situation by forcing him to talk about it. At least the effort to protect Adrien’s feelings was there. Plus, the investigation had only just begun this morning, maybe his father hadn’t even had the chance to ask him yet. 

But despite whatever his father’s motives were, Chat had come to this bakery for a reason.

He fiddled with his shortened baton, feeling his face turn hot. “S-Sorry, I don’t think I’d be of much help. I don’t really know her that well. I-I mean, I’ve saved her from a few akumas, I guess. But I wouldn’t say I know her _that_ well…” 

As he spoke, his father’s expression began to subtly shift. He was staring at Chat now in a way that Chat couldn’t say he recognized. It kept giving Chat the feeling that he was going to get caught for something. But his father wasn’t looking at him the way that he did whenever he was about to scold him. This was…different.

And yet the anxiety was there within Chat, worsening the churning of his stomach. Splitting the glass. 

Then again, meeting with his father always made him feel uneasy these days. Maybe Chat just needed a nap.

“I see,” Gabriel said. “That’s too bad. I wish luck to the…heroes.” He began to walk away again to the car waiting for him, but before he could take more than a couple steps, this time it was Chat who stopped him, reaching out a hand lightly on his arm.

“Wait! I—Um…” Chat fumbled as his father stared with raised eyebrows to the clawed hand resting on his jacket. Chat quickly retracted his hand back to himself, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, though his father didn’t actually seem upset by the sudden action. Just surprised. 

“Sorry,” Chat squeaked. “I-I just wanted to say…thank you. For helping Marinette. I really appreciate it. Th-That people are looking out for her.”

The unreadable gaze on his father’s face intensified, and he dismissed Chat with a humble shake of his head. “As I said, it’s the least I can do.”

His father then went on his way without any further interruption, driving off in the silver family car, and Chat turned back to the bakery door, taking several deep breaths to shake off the weirdness of the whole encounter and get himself back on track. He didn’t know how Marinette’s parents would react to hearing the truth about their daughter, but at least they would know she was alive. That had to be better than wondering…right?

Chat pulled on the door handle, but the door was locked. 

Of course. His father must have locked it on his way out. But it wasn’t a problem. Chat simply went around the side of the building instead, entering through the back door that led up to the apartments. 

It felt strange as he knocked on the Dupain-Cheng’s front door, knowing that Marinette was not waiting inside.

He knocked anyway.

“Who is it?” an uncertain voice responded from the other side. Chat recognized it as Marinette’s mother, Sabine. 

The cracks in him spread further. His hands shook. He couldn’t even fake a smile anymore. “It’s Chat Noir,” he answered. 

“Oh!” Sabine said in surprise, and within seconds, the door before Chat was opening to reveal the living room of the Dupain-Cheng’s apartment. “Sorry about that, dear,” she said. “Please, come in.”

Chat nodded in thanks as he walked into the apartment. Right away he noticed the three half-empty mugs of coffee sitting on the kitchen table, yet Sabine was the only person in the room. One of the mugs must have been his father’s. And the other… 

“Is Mr. Dupain here?” Chat asked. He couldn’t stop his voice from wavering. 

“He just went off to take a nap,” Sabine explained. “And, oh! We just watched your interview on the news. That ‘secret mission’ Ladybug is on, I know she probably has a lot of important things to do, but, could she be looking for Marinette?”

So apparently people did buy their cover. 

The hope in her mother’s voice was too much for Chat. He silently extended his baton to the length of a staff, gripping onto it like a lifeline, avoiding Sabine’s eyes. If he hadn’t been transformed, he probably would have passed out. 

“…Are you alright, dear?” asked Sabine, her voice suddenly gaining a worried edge. 

Gulping in a huge breath, Chat looked up and met her eyes firmly.

“I lied.”

Immediately, Sabine’s face washed in confusion. “Lied? About what, dear?”

God, Chat did not want to do this. 

But if he didn’t, the guilt would only eat him alive.

“O-On the news,” he forced out. “I lied about Ladybug. We only even did that interview so that I _could_ lie about Ladybug. Because she’s…not on a secret mission.” 

Sabine seemed a little freaked out by his answer. “…Then where is she?” 

Tears formed in Chat’s eyes. He felt awful for scaring Sabine. And he hated that it would only get worse. Searching her worried gaze, he grappled for the strength to speak the words he knew had to be spoken. 

It felt like a hundred years passed before he had the breath to answer, his broken voice coming out barely above a whisper when he finally did. “Hawk Moth,” he said.

And the glass shattered. 

A single tear fell down onto his mask, soon followed by another. And then another. Meanwhile, further confusion only contorted Sabine’s expression, before suddenly her eyes blew wide with realization, and then sadness as she seemed to understand what that name truly meant for Ladybug. 

“That’s horrible,” Sabine said. “But—But out of all people, why did you choose to tell me?”

Chat looked at Marinette’s mother with his tears seeping into the broken remains of his heart. His voice was gone. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t say it. 

So Sabine said it for him. 

“Marinette,” she whispered, and helplessly, Chat watched as her own heart shattered right before him. He nodded faintly, wiping away his tears from his cheeks only to have more fall in their place. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I-I didn’t know. Not until it was too late, and she was already…”

“But how did this happen?” Sabine asked desperately. “Is she okay?”

Chat had expected to be on the receiving end of her anger for losing her daughter to a supervillain. He certainly felt like he deserved it. But even now, Sabine remained calm, showing no frustration to him. Only grief for her daughter. 

It was debatably worse. 

“Ladybug…followed after a purified akuma,” he explained. “But I had no idea at the time. She went alone, and she didn’t tell anyone that she was going. We had no way to stop her. And I didn’t know that Ladybug was Marinette until afterwards because she always wanted our identities to be a secret. I should’ve known anyway, but I didn’t, and then Alya figured it out, and now Marinette’s on her own, and I…” His voice broke into a crackling sob. “I’m sorry. I failed her, and I failed you. I’m really sorry.” 

“Oh, honey,” Sabine crooned, placing a warm hand on his cheek. “It’s not your fault.” Though a moment later, she added, “…is it?”

Chat really did not understand. He had just delivered some of the worst news a person could possibly deliver, and yet here Sabine was consoling _him._

“Well, no,” he answered. “But, yes? I don’t know. She’s my partner, I’m supposed to be protecting her. But she went where I couldn’t follow, and now she’s—” 

Hawk Moth's awful words echoed in his head. _She screams out for you, you know. When she’s in pain._

Chat swallowed thickly, the memory filling his throat with shards of glass. 

“…She’s, um, with Hawk Moth at the moment,” he winced. “But I promise I’m going to save her. I swear it. The other heroes and I already have a plan in place, we just need a couple of days."

“So she's okay?” Sabine pressed.

"Well, I don’t know much right now about Marinette’s condition,” Chat answered, “but I know for a fact that Hawk Moth won’t do anything too…drastic. He, um…” Was using her life as blackmail bait, therefore had to be keeping her alive. “—well, it’s complicated, but, I know she’ll be okay.”

That was really sugar-coating it, but at least it was still technically the truth, which was what Chat had come here to tell. 

“…I see,” Sabine said after taking a moment to digest the information. She was such a strong woman in the face of disaster, the way she was holding herself together was remarkable. Chat could see now where Ladybug got it from. 

“But you and Mr. Dupain cannot tell anyone else about this,” he said. “Not even my—I mean, not even M-Mr. Agreste and his detectives.”

Sabine was quick to assure him. “I understand, dear, don’t worry.” She reached up to pet the top of his head in a gentle caress, and Chat let his eyes fall shut for a moment, letting out a breath of relief. “Thank you for telling me,” Sabine said softly. “I know you’ll save her.”

“I will. I promise.” Wiping at his cheeks again, Chat watched as Sabine left him to walk over to the kitchen.

“Now, you just finished with an akuma, didn’t you?” she called to him. “Why don’t you sit down and relax for a minute. How about some hot chocolate before you go back to school?” 

Chat’s eyebrows rose beneath his mask at the unexpected offer, his tears momentarily forgotten, but then a moment later his stomach dropped as he registered the last part of her sentence. “Wait, how do you know—”

“Well, you’re around Marinette’s age, right?” Sabine answered innocently before he could technically even ask. “Shouldn’t you be in school right about now?”

Embarrassment dusted over Chat’s cheeks.

Hanging his head, he answered, “…Yes, ma’am.” He just knew he’d get caught for something. 

“So, how about that hot chocolate then,” Sabine insisted, already digging into the cupboards. “You like it with extra marshmallows, right?”

Chat blinked. While it wasn’t unheard of for him to hang around the apartment transformed, it didn’t exactly happen often. At least that Marinette’s parents were aware of. So the fact that her mother had remembered a detail as insignificant as how he preferred his hot chocolate… 

The tiniest smile formed on Chat’s lips. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

❖❖❖

Time passed strangely in the yellow room. It didn’t fall in lines of hours or minutes. Here Marinette found that she was simply alone, until she wasn’t. She was on the floor by the bed where Gabriel had left her, and then Nathalie was there, cleaning up the shards of the broken plate without speaking so much as a single word. 

And then Nathalie was gone. 

And Marinette was alone again. 

She didn’t know how long Nathalie had stayed in the room. She didn’t know how long it had been since Nathalie had left. Marinette just stayed on the floor with her head in her knees until the pain in her back finally receded enough for her to stand. 

When it did, she went over to the bathroom. Every movement she made only ignited more sparks of pain. 

Then she drank water from the sink. 

That hurt too.

When she was done, she returned to her spot under the window. At least being farther away from the bed made its soft mattress less tempting to climb onto. 

So Marinette simply sat there, under the window, as the time passed. No hours. No minutes. Just pale yellow walls. 

Perhaps the sky would be getting dark soon. Perhaps the day had still only barely begun. All Marinette knew was that she was alone until she wasn’t. Until the door was opening again, and Gabriel was materializing from behind it, coming into the room.

It probably would have been wisest for her to keep her mouth shut, to only speak if she was telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. But Marinette found that as Gabriel neared her, pleas tumbled out from her lips anyway, the sensible part of her brain having little effect in stopping them. 

“W-Wait,” she croaked. It didn’t seem that Gabriel was holding anything in his hands to hurt her with this time, but his hands alone were a frightening enough weapon. “Please let me go,” she begged. “P-Please. Just—Just let me go. I’m sorry, for c-coming into your lair. I’m sorry. So please, please just stop—” 

“You did the right thing, delivering your miraculous to me like that,” Gabriel said, standing before her. Marinette felt her chest tighten in fear. He was speaking in a tone jarringly different than any she recalled having heard from him before. “Well, perhaps not like _that_ ,” he relented, “but tactics aside, you were right to bring your miraculous to me, Marinette.” 

She gaped up to him. She didn’t understand. Gabriel’s voice, it was…calm. He still carried a strict air of authority, of course, standing above her so tall and precise, but even so, his voice was remarkably eased.

Marinette wished she knew whether that was a good sign or a terrible one. So far, every time he’d come into her room it had always been the same routine. He towered over her, she snarked at him, he taunted her, and then she got hurt. And this time, she was still reeling in pain from the belt this morning. She wasn’t ready to be hurt again. 

But what choice did she have.

Marinette closed her eyes, waiting for the blow. The punch. The kick. 

But instead, Gabriel was speaking to her again in that same calm voice. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said. “You could eat. You could behave. And there would be no need for punishment. You wouldn’t have to feel so horrible all the time. As you are right now, you can’t even sleep without nightmares.”

Slowly, Marinette peeked her eyes open. This was not right. She hadn’t spoken a word to Gabriel about her nightmares, how could he possibly know— 

Her jaw dropped open. “You were spying on my emotions while I was asleep?” she blurted, unable to hide the betrayal from her voice. The mere prospect of Gabriel prying through her emotions without her permission was utterly violating. Like even the security of her own thoughts had been breached. Because they _had._

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized that he would pull something like this sooner. There were a number of citizens who'd been akumatized over their bad dreams. Marinette was so stupid not to realize that Gabriel could see into her dreams just the same.

But when she turned her focus back to him, she found that he wasn’t appearing smug or amused or boastful at her realization like she had come to expect of him. Gabriel was simply watching her with his head slightly tilted and a funny look on his face, an expression somewhere between surprise and interest. 

“I didn’t need to,” he answered carefully. “Your incessant screaming the other night was a bit telling.”

Marinette blinked. 

“Oh.”

All she really remembered from her nights in the bed was the dream where she’d been falling. There had been voices, soft murmurs around her, mountains of people trying to reach her through her screams. 

She hadn’t realized that she’d actually been screaming out loud.

“S-Sorry…” she faltered. 

Bursting people’s eardrums in her sleep, especially her kidnapper’s, had not exactly been her intention. She really didn't want to give Gabriel any additional reasons to be annoyed with her.

“Perhaps it’s just as well you don’t remember,” he dismissed. “You were quite out of it.”

But now that Marinette was thinking about her dream, she couldn’t help but wonder—if her screams had been real, then the voices that had called to her, had they been…him? Had Gabriel actually been trying to calm her through her nightmares?

Before Marinette could dwell on the thought for any longer, the pain in her lower back suddenly flared sharply, and she winced, trying not to squeak out loud in pain. 

No. There was no way Gabriel would’ve bothered to help calm her through her nightmares. He enjoyed making her scream, not stopping her. 

Marinette sat limply on the floor, breathing as slowly as she could through the wave of pain in her back. She wished Gabriel would just hurt her and get it over with and leave. 

But he did none of those things. Instead, Gabriel let out a sigh and crouched down in front of her. 

Marinette wanted to scramble away. She wanted to back up against the wall. But movement came with a painful price, and she knew that even if she did back away, it would do absolutely nothing to stop Gabriel’s fists from flying at her. So as his hand reached towards her, she stayed in place and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep her cowardly trembling to a minimum.

But…his hand didn’t hit her. Marinette could only feel fingers tapping lightly on her shoulder. In her confusion, she opened her eyes to find Gabriel attentively straightening out the wrinkles in the short-sleeve of her dress where the fabric had scrunched up her arm. It seemed a silly effort to Marinette considering her dress was days past stale and stained with various drops of blood from her right hand, but Gabriel didn't seem to mind as he fixed the wrinkles anyway. As though his only intention was to help her tidy up. As though he actually cared. Like real fathers were supposed to when presented with disheveled teenagers.

What a fake he was. 

“Don’t you want to feel better?” he asked gently. 

Marinette wished she had the courage to flick his fingers away from her. 

Of course she wanted to feel better. That was all Marinette wanted. She just wanted to feel clean and safe and to have her injuries taken care of properly. She wanted to eat and to bundle up under the covers of a real bed. She wanted her mom. She wanted Chat. The desires were so strong, they pulled on her very soul itself. 

But so long as she was in this room, and Gabriel was with her, they would never happen. 

So Marinette kept quiet, watching Gabriel’s fingers fix her dress—until abruptly she remembered that when he wasn’t busy being a supervillain, he happened to be a world-renowned fashion designer (up until a few days ago, her fashion _idol_ ), and suddenly, despite every horrible thing he’d done to her in this room, Marinette couldn’t help but feel a tad humiliated for looking so unkempt in front of him. 

And almost immediately after her thoughts trailed down that path, a faint chuckle escaped Gabriel.

“Embarrassed are we, little bug?” he teased lightly. “Shouldn’t that be the least of your worries at the moment?”

Marinette flicked her gaze up to glare at him sternly. “You _are_ spying on my emotions.”

The corner of Gabriel’s mouth lifted into a smug curve. “Naturally.” 

Marinette’s stomach dropped. Her eyes watered. She didn’t have anything to say to that. 

Gabriel won. He could practically read her thoughts. Just as she now realized he’d probably been doing since the very moment she’d first flung herself down through the open window of his lair. And all she could do about it was turn her head down in shame, her innermost feelings bared like an exhibit to the man crouching before her. 

In the past, Master Fu had explained to her how the Butterfly Miraculous worked differently from the rest. Its wearer didn’t actually need to be transformed to be able to use its power and sense the emotions of those around them, a detail Marinette had conveniently forgotten about until now.

Master Fu had said that the ability was _supposed_ to allow the wearer to feel around for any people they should help.

Gabriel only used it to terrorize and spy.

“Perhaps you don’t know as much about the miraculous as I would have preferred,” he said as he straightened out the imperfections in her dress here and there, his fingers smoothing out the fabric, picking off any fallen hairs. “But you know so much more than you’re letting on.”

Marinette’s heartbeat began to pick up in fear. She didn’t dare respond.

“All those secrets you’ve been burdened with by that terrible Guardian,” Gabriel continued earnestly, “they don’t have to be a burden anymore. You can tell me.” He pulled his hands back to himself altogether, apparently satisfied with the state of her dress. 

Had Marinette not known better, she would have trusted such a soft voice blindly.

But it was fake. It was all fake. Gabriel held no true sympathy for her, no matter how sincere he sounded. He was only trying to trick her into letting her guard slip. 

She stared down at the chains pooled on the floor in front of her, at the metal that forever tugged on her sore wrists. 

“I can’t,” she murmured. 

“And why is that?” Gabriel pressed. “You’re not going anywhere, and you’ll end up telling me anyway one way or another, so why not do yourself a favor and get it over with now?” 

Marinette stared up to him like he’d lost his mind. Which, granted, he kind of had. 

“You’ll only use it to hurt them,” she said, a bit dumbfounded that she even had to explain. “I won’t let you hurt them.”

Gabriel kept his expression meticulously gentle. “Hurt who?” 

Marinette let out a breath of disbelief. Gesturing her chained hands vaguely around in front of herself, she answered, “Everyone?”

Her parents. Her friends. Chat. Master Fu. The other heroes. Random civilians. 

Everyone.

He would go after everyone.

Gabriel watched her evenly. “And what do you think I’m doing now?” he asked. It was quite a sinister question coming from such a calm voice. But Marinette shook her head, refusing to give Gabriel the answer he wanted. She couldn’t even tell if his words held truth, or if they were just empty threats to try and get her to talk. 

Not knowing was a torture of its own. 

“They’re safer this way,” she said resolutely, fighting back her oncoming tears, though she flinched as Gabriel reached out a hand again to delicately stroke back a stray lock of her hair that had fallen out of place. 

“And you?” he asked. “You think you’re safer this way?”

Marinette's bottom lip began trembling against her will at the question. Pushing through her dizziness, she forced herself to lock onto Gabriel’s gaze just as her first lone tear streaked down onto her cheek. 

“I don’t care what happens to me,” she whispered. It was all she could muster. Her voice was only barely held together by dangling threads. 

Gabriel scoffed. “That’s the worst lie you’ve told yet.”

As the dizziness became too much, and more tears joined the first, Marinette turned her head back down to her lap. She did, of course, care what happened to her, but if Gabriel learned the information he was looking for, he would undoubtedly use it to take over the city. If Marinette kept her mouth shut, then only she would be the one truly receiving his wrath. So when it came down between letting herself be tortured or the entire city—maybe even the entire world—then she had to make the sacrifice.

Wiping her cheeks with the back of her good hand, she squeaked out, “So? It doesn’t matter what I feel. I don’t have a choice. I’m not _allowed_ to care what happens to me.” A sob pushed its way out of her throat as she spoke, tearing through her words, shredding them apart. “It’s my duty.”

“No, it was Ladybug’s duty,” Gabriel said firmly. “One that the Guardian cruelly forced upon you. But you are not Ladybug anymore, and it’s time you got that into your head.” 

As Marinette sniffled, Gabriel reached a hand into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out what appeared to be his personal handkerchief. And then he held it out to her. 

Marinette stared at the handkerchief like it was an alien object. She didn’t understand why on earth Gabriel would offer her something like that when they both knew full well that he did not actually care. Why was he putting so much effort into a facade? What was his angle?

She looked up to him for an explanation, but Gabriel simply shook the hand holding the handkerchief in a silent gesture telling her to take it. 

In the few seconds she had to think, Marinette could only see two options for herself: Either she could take the handkerchief and risk falling right into a trap that would result in her getting hurt, or she could _not_ take the handkerchief and _still_ get hurt anyway because of ‘disobeying’ or whatever. 

Truly a lose-lose situation. 

“All you have to do is eat and behave, Marinette," Gabriel said, though the slightest bit of impatience was beginning to seep into his voice. “Those are your only duties now.”

Marinette stared at the handkerchief in his fingers, at his name embroidered along the hem, and she kept her shivering hands strictly in her lap. 

He said it like it was so simple. Like she could just casually betray everything she’d spent the last three years protecting. Like she could just tell her greatest enemy her deepest secrets and single handedly cause the downfall of the whole world. Like it would be fine.

It was not fine.

“I can’t,” Marinette wept.

Through her tear-blurred, spinning vision, she only vaguely caught the way Gabriel’s face twitched sourly at her refusal.

“Then you are choosing this for yourself,” his voice ground out. 

And then just like that, their routine was completed. 

A hard slap blew against Marinette’s face and she nearly collapsed down to the floor, only barely catching herself in time. She’d known this was coming all along. 

Closing her eyes as her cheek stung profusely, she choked out, “Please don’t do this.”

“How ridiculous,” Gabriel spat. “You can’t even beg properly.”

A wave of pure contempt flashed within Marinette. So Gabriel wanted her to—what? Include a good “sir” in her begging when he was only going to hit her again regardless? _That_ was what was ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous. 

“I hate you,” Marinette gritted out through her tears. 

Gabriel only rolled his eyes. “Groundbreaking.” He rose up to his feet, standing back over her. “Try telling me something I don’t know. Something _useful_ from that pathetic brain of yours, perhaps, if you know what’s good for yourself.”

Marinette glared to the handkerchief still in his hand. She wished she’d taken it just so she could’ve ripped it apart. “Okay: I _really_ hate you.”

Gabriel’s foot slammed into her stomach, and with the fragile state she was in, the force nearly knocked her unconscious.

Marinette gasped for breath on the floor, crying in a silent gape as her entire body was engulfed in pain. Her back burned in invisible flames. Her right hand was torn by glass all over again. She was unable to stabilize herself, and yet for some reason, the universe refused to let her pass out either, trapping her in a limbo of misery.

“ _Talk_ ,” Gabriel’s voice barked from above her. 

Marinette shook her head no against the floor. Or at least, that was her intention. She couldn’t really tell if the gesture was readable or not past all the mind-numbing pain. So she just waited for the next blow, hoping that it might be the one to send her into a forced sleep at least for a little while, and absolutely terrified that it would be. 

Many moments went by.

Though the next kick didn’t seem to come. 

Marinette tried to focus on her surroundings, but Gabriel was…gone. He wasn’t there anymore. Marinette was alone again. 

Because that was how time passed in the yellow room. 

She was alone. Or she wasn’t. 

Her only constant throughout both, were the pale yellow walls themselves, mocking her with their false imitation of sunshine, trapping her in the never-ending limbo of pain.

❖❖❖

That night, Marinette dreamt of magic. She dreamt of pink light, and Lucky Charms, and thousands of tiny little ladybugs swirling all around her. 

But then, just like all her other dreams as of late, it took its unpleasant turn. The magic turned black. The ladybugs darkened into butterflies that chased after her, swarming her. They backed her up against a wall, and she cried out for help, even though somehow she already knew help would never come. 

Right as the butterflies were about to overtake her completely, Marinette awoke on the hard floor of the yellow room, panting harshly.

She blinked as her eyes stung against the light of the room for a few moments before she glanced up to the window above her, finding the beginnings of daylight glowing down upon her. 

Finally. 

Her eyes fell closed again while she caught her breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Marinette hated the nights. Countless times she’d woken up, all from similar nightmares. It probably didn’t help that she hadn’t brought even a blanket over to cover herself with on the floor, but at least she had been able to fall asleep for longer periods of time than the previous night, before the nightmares ruined it all. 

Well, she thought she’d slept for longer periods of time. But it was hard to tell. 

The exhaustion that she felt now as she slowly sat herself up was…the worst she’d felt in this room. She couldn’t even feel the hunger pains anymore. She felt nothing. And she felt everything. It was confusing, disorienting. 

She just wanted to go home. 

The bathroom door stood not too far away, and her dry throat begged her to go to it. But she lacked the energy to even crawl over. And as for food… Marinette wasn’t quite sure how long humans were supposed to be able to last without eating anything. Though she guessed it didn’t really matter since she didn’t know how many days she’d been here anyway. Maybe that was for the best. It was still a better fate than getting poisoned or drugged by whatever Gabriel had put in the food that Nathalie kept bringing to her. 

Even if it was the last thing she did, Marinette would not let Hawk Moth have the glory of poisoning her. 

Feeling her face stained with old tears, her mind wandered back to the handkerchief. The tissues Gabriel had put in the room were one thing, but to offer his prisoner his personal handkerchief made no sense at all. And he’d done it so neutrally. He’d only become hostile _after_ she’d refused to take it. Maybe he’d laced it with something to knock her unconscious?

A sudden chill ran through Marinette at the thought. 

She was glad she hadn’t taken it. 

It was so hard to tell which things Gabriel had lied about and which things he hadn't. He’d claimed to have been completely honest with her about _everything,_ but that was obviously the biggest lie of them all. And then he kept acting like he was trying to help her, like with fixing her dress and stitching her hand, and it was so confusing because he was the _cause_ of everything wrong in the first place.

At the thought of the stitches, Marinette glanced down to the white bandages covering her right hand. It hadn't occurred to her until that moment, but ever since her hand had been wrapped, Marinette had never actually looked at what was underneath. She had no idea if there really were stitches, or if that was just another lie too. 

She inspected her hand more closely, looking for the end piece of the white cloth bandage.

Well...it wasn’t like there was anything else to do in this room, and as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

And frankly, Marinette’s future was not looking particularly bright anyway, she was willing to let her curiosity take its chances. 

So with her unsteady left hand, she began unwrapping the bandages from her right, discarding the coil of cloth absent-mindedly on the floor. Immediately her attention drew to the skin that began to peek out from underneath. Her skin that was darkened with large patches of purples and blues. 

As the bandages fell away completely, Marinette winced at the sight of the mess left behind. It was…rather gnarly. Gabriel had said that her hand was bruised, not broken, and bruised it certainly was, no thanks to him. And amongst all the bruises, was the answer to her original question. 

Several lines of stitches trailed down from her knuckles, running across the top of her hand and her thumb like miniature train tracks woven into her skin. Marinette had no idea how to feel about it. She wanted to be pissed at Gabriel for crushing her hand, but she was also frustrated with herself for punching the TV in the first place. And she was really shocked that Gabriel had gone through all the effort of fixing her hand at all. Or let Nathalie do it. And that he’d told the truth about it. 

Marinette could not understand for the life of her what went on his head. 

As for hers, boredom and curiosity continued to get the best of her, and she ran the fingers of her good hand lightly over the stitches.

It hurt more than she’d thought it would. And yet somehow it hurt less. What concerned her, though, were the spots of dried blood scattered around her hand. They seemed much fresher than they should have been, and while Marinette was not an expert, she did not think her hand had a very bright future ahead of itself either with the way Gabriel was constantly throwing her around. 

The daylight continued to brighten through the window above her as the day carried on, and soon enough Nathalie was coming into the room, bringing with her a fresh tray of food to replace the old one. Marinette didn’t bother to see what it was this time. It didn’t matter. Poison was poison. 

And then just as quickly as she’d come, Nathalie left without saying a word. Without offering ice or new bandages or even just a friendly hand. And that was fine with Marinette. She didn’t need Nathalie’s help or the poisoned food she brought. 

It was all. Fine. 

A stray tear still rolled down Marinette’s cheek as the door closed behind Nathalie on her way out.

Marinette told herself that it was only because she knew what came next. Or rather who. 

While she waited for the inevitable, she occupied herself by studying her injured hand. She poked and prodded at it very lightly every now and then, and the daylight shined above her for some time longer before Gabriel finally made his own entrance. 

And the very moment he stepped foot into the room, Marinette realized her mistake. 

Now that the bare skin of her right hand was open to the air, her hand was as vulnerable as it could possibly be, just like how it had been when he’d originally crushed it. If Gabriel wanted to hurt her again, which he always did, he would go right for it now that she’d turned it into a blaring target. Again.

Why was she always was so _stupid_. Why didn’t she ever _think_ before she did things anymore.

In a silent panic, Marinette tucked her hands away against her side as Gabriel approached from the other end of the room, already speaking to her with blatant distaste.

“You are free to use your bed, and yet you sleep on the floor,” he condemned. “You have perfectly good food, and yet you refuse to eat it. You know what will happen if you don’t behave, and yet here you are.” He stopped walking as he reached her, standing like a high-fashion skyscraper over the slouched slump she was on the floor. “You turned out to be dumber than I ever could have guessed,” he finished.

By now Marinette thought she should have been immune to the petty insults he flung at her, but this one stung. Because it was true. She was dumb. Ever since she’d chased after that akuma, it seemed like every single choice she’d made had been the wrong one. 

But if Gabriel was looking for a reaction from her, he wouldn’t be getting one. Marinette didn’t have the energy for their little routine anymore. She wasn’t trembling, she wasn’t cowering. She just sat there, staring at the floor in front of her. 

“Just leave me alone,” she murmured.

“What, so you can wither away on the floor until you turn to dust?” Gabriel asked sardonically. 

No, Marinette thought, so she could wither away on the floor until _Chat came to save her._

But she didn’t respond out loud. She focused instead on breathing in solid enough breaths. Her head felt so heavy on her shoulders.

“He’s not coming to rescue you,” Gabriel said. “You’re aware of that, right?”

Marinette shot her head up just enough to send Gabriel a sharp glare. Though upon seeing the smug satisfaction on his face, she dropped her gaze right back down to the floor after only a few seconds. 

What did he know? She and Chat had a bond that was so intertwined, it far beyond transcended words. She knew that no matter what, Chat would try to find her once he noticed she was gone. He had to be. She could feel it. That sliver of hope was all she had left to hold onto. Even though he probably wouldn’t make it in time, Marinette knew Chat would still try. And she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t make it. The web she had gotten herself tangled into here was a deep matrix, for that she had only herself to blame.

“What did you do to your hand?”

Marinette froze at the sound of Gabriel’s voice.

His tone was both curious and accusing, and she realized too late now that while she’d been caught up in her thoughts about Chat, she had completely forgotten that she was supposed to be hiding her injured hand away from Gabriel’s view. 

Yet another stellar move by Marinette Dupain-Cheng. What a surprise.

“N-Nothing,” she mumbled, turning away from Gabriel. And technically it was true. She hadn’t really _done_ anything to her hand except unwrap it. And maybe sort of irritate it. A little. 

“ _Marinette_ ,” Gabriel snapped, and she flinched at the harshness of his tone. Tears automatically spilled down from her lashes, and somehow her body found the energy to tremble once more. 

Gabriel’s voice only turned slow and dangerous, not expressing even the least bit of pity. “Give me your hand,” he ordered.

Anxiety filled Marinette’s lungs with thick smoke, and she clutched her injured hand against her chest, turning further away from him. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want her hand to be destroyed all over again. It hadn’t even remotely healed from the first time. 

But then Gabriel was reaching out for it for himself. 

Marinette tried to get away, but with every tiny twist of her body, shooting pain exploded throughout her, and she screamed as Gabriel grabbed her right wrist. 

“Stop! Stop!” she cried, trying to pull her arm back to herself, though the yanking only made the pain worse. 

Gabriel moved quickly. In the blink of an eye, he had Marinette on her stomach with his knee digging into the middle of her back, pinning her down easily, and he wrenched her chained hands back behind her head. 

Marinette could only scream in pain. Even if she’d had strength left to get away, it wouldn’t have mattered. The knee pressing into her back had rendered her completely immobile. So she sobbed with her face pressed against the hard floor, waiting for Gabriel to crush her hand again, waiting for it to only get worse. 

“I asked you a question,” he said roughly. His grip remained down by her manacle, though, not touching her hand itself. “Do not lie to me this time. What did you do to your hand?”

“I-I just wanted t-to see it…” Marinette blubbered into the floor. 

“Did I give you permission to take off your bandages?” 

Marinette did not understand. Permission…? To see her own hand?

“…N-No?” she answered. 

Gabriel’s fingers traveled up her hand to the beginning of her tender bruises, pressing down on where the real injury started. “‘No,’ _what,_ ” he demanded.

Marinette squealed, trying to rip her hand away from his hold. She had no idea how she wasn’t blacking out from the pain. From—From everything.

When she couldn't free her hand, she cried, “No, s-sir.”

“That’s right,” Gabriel said in a firm tone. “So don’t do it again.” His fingers moved back down to the manacle on her wrist, leaving her hand alone as he continued to keep her arms bent back behind her head. 

Marinette was having a difficult time following whatever Gabriel was trying to convey to her. She just wanted to sleep. Nothing made sense anymore. She just sobbed and sobbed until she heard what sounded like a faint…dial tone? Marinette tried to turn her head to see Gabriel behind her, but with his knee still on her back, the movement was impossible without causing fierce stabs of pain, so she gave up rather quickly. 

“Nathalie,” she heard Gabriel say. “Bring up new bandages to Marinette’s room. Her hand needs to be wrapped.” 

If Nathalie replied from the other end of the line, Marinette couldn’t hear it over the noise of her own bawling, and Gabriel didn’t say anything more. It was hard to tell how much time passed before the door across the room clicked.

When it did, Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling extra-humiliated that anyone else was seeing her like this, tackled on the floor. Even Nathalie. 

But then already Nathalie’s footsteps were receding again, and as soon as she was gone, Gabriel spoke lowly into Marinette’s ear. 

“Hold. Still.” 

Unfortunately, Marinette was unable to follow any order at the moment unless it was ‘cry.’

Gabriel sighed in annoyance behind her, and without warning, a wet cloth pressed against her injured hand. It stung like a bitch. Marinette doubted it was even real disinfectant, it was probably just something that would make her hand worse. 

“Honestly,” Gabriel said as he wiped down her hand, “you don’t even realize how lucky you are that it's me who owns you. You and Chat Noir have created quite the set of onlookers for yourselves amongst the Paris underground, and you probably don’t even have the faintest clue.”

Marinette had no idea what Gabriel was talking about, she just squeaked and squealed through her tears as her hand stung, wishing he would go away. 

But Gabriel just kept talking to her.

“There are so many people out there who would pay a fortune to get their hands on you. And trust me when I say that their intentions are far less favorable than mine.”

Marinette’s chest tightened awfully. In all of the time she’d had to think to herself since Gabriel had kidnapped her, she had never even considered that there could be _more_ people after her too. 

It was a terrifying thought. 

It only made her cry harder.

Gabriel wrapped new cloth around her hand, continuing to speak to her as if she weren’t bawling her eyes out right under him. “It was really only a matter of time before someone took you,” he said. “You are lucky that I had to intervene first. And fortunately for you, simply having the ex-hero of Paris in my possession makes me immeasurably more powerful. So you should be grateful that I’m keeping you out of the world’s slimy hands. _Those_ people would not care to bandage your wounds, they would not feed you fresh food, and they would certainly not give you your own clean bed to sleep in.” He pulled on the cloth tightly, making Marinette yelp. “Is that what you want? To be fed to the pigs?”

She sobbed a garbled “No,” into the floor, and Gabriel pressed his knee harder into her back.

“Answer me _properly_.”

Marinette choked on her breath as she screamed with her dead voice, coughing violently. “N-No, sir.”

“Then start acting like it.” He let go of her hand, placing it on the floor in front of her in its fresh white cloth, and then his knee left her back completely.

But even though he'd finally gotten off of her, Marinette didn’t make any move to get up. She couldn't.

“Please,” she cried, “I just—I just want to go home.”

“Good,” Gabriel said firmly. “You are home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> marinette: I miss music :( 
> 
> gabriel, already grabbing a microphone: With a cane in my hand, and a mask on my face—


	11. Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tag update warning!! I'm adding "mild nudity" to the tags bc this chapter does contain nudity, though it is NOT in a sexual context. As I stated at the beginning of this fic, i'm not writing any sexual violence. That being said, the contents of this chapter are still very heavy and traumatic, so please consider this is an extra warning
> 
> p.s. this chap got super long and i'm way overdue for an update so I'm splitting it up to give u pt 1 now. pt 2 coming soon <3

Today was the fifth day of Marinette’s absence. That was five whole days of Marinette being held prisoner in who-knows-where by Hawk Moth. Five days of Marinette being hurt by Hawk Moth—if what Hawk Moth had said back on the rooftop was true. Five days of Adrien not coming any closer to saving her. 

Three days had passed since Adrien had learned Marinette’s identity, and Master Fu had subsequently taken a portal to Tibet to collect ingredients for the dream spell. 

Two days had passed since Hawk Moth had given the heroes his ultimatum: the miraculous for Marinette. 

One day was left until the hour glass ran out. 

Zero akumas had appeared since The Curator. 

Not a peep from Hawk Moth had been heard since the conversation on the rooftop. And it was driving Adrien insane. 

Hawk Moth had been very clear in his instructions to the heroes in how to give up their miraculous: leave them at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He’d ‘know’ if the jewels were there. 

But Hawk Moth had never said what would happen if the heroes _didn’t_ do it.

He’d said that they had three days, but three days until _what_? Would Hawk Moth akumatize Marinette? Would he hurt her? Would he akumatize her parents instead? Would he become Scarlet Moth again and try to akumatize _everyone_?

There were endless possibilities, and every last one of them darted around in Adrien’s mind as his brain ran endlessly in overdrive. He hadn’t been able to focus in class at all these last two days. He’d hardly been able to sleep. He could only truly doze off by sneaking into Marinette’s bed whenever he could find the time, her essence being the only thing able to settle him at all. Adrien couldn’t even focus on the breakfast in front himself at the moment. The omelette on his plate had long since gone cold, and the diced fruit had been poked at a bit by his fork and nothing more, his fingers too busy with twisting the silver ring on his right hand absent-mindedly. 

It wasn’t that Adrien wasn’t hungry, because he really was, it was just that he couldn’t stop _thinking_ long enough to focus on eating. His mind wasn’t in the dining hall of his home, it was immersed in all the possibilities of the havoc Hawk Moth could wreak starting in just a little over twenty-four hours.

“Adrieeeen,” Plagg’s voice whined. 

Adrien’s mind was pulled back down to his body upon hearing his kwami’s call. He looked down to the small side dish of cheese beside his breakfast plate where he found Plagg lounging amongst various slices of Camembert. 

“Huh?” Adrien responded with stark inelegance. 

Plagg rolled his eyes in a show of theatrics, but even the kwami couldn’t completely conceal his worry from leaking through. “If you don’t eat now, then you’ll just be hungry during school,” Plagg said. “And I am not sharing my mid-class Camembert. That baby’s alllll mine.”

Adrien sighed and ran a hand through his hair before picking up his fork. “I’m not gonna steal your cheese, Plagg. I was just…thinking. That’s all.”

“Well _stop_ thinking. We don’t have to think until this afternoon when Master Fu’s plane arrives. Until then, all we have to think about is nice, gooey, creamy, smelly chee—”

“Yeah, okay, now I actually am losing my appetite,” Adrien stopped his kwami.

Plagg snickered, and despite the teasing intent, Adrien found the familiar sound grounding. He twiddled with his fork and took a deep breath. Everything would be fine. Plagg was right. Master Fu was coming back from China today at two o’clock, and then Adrien and Alya and Nino could rescue Marinette and stop Hawk Moth, and then nobody would ever have to learn what the threat that laid at the end of the ‘three days’ would be because by that time Hawk Moth would no longer have his miraculous. 

Everything would be fine. 

Adrien turned his attention down to his plate. 

_Don’t think. Just eat. Everything will be fine._

He lifted his fork. 

“Adrien.”

And he dropped it at the sound of his father’s voice. The metal clanged sharply against the ceramic plate, and Adrien darted out to grab his fork again and set it back in its proper position on the placemat. 

“S-Sorry, Father,” he said, turning in his seat to face the doorway where his father was standing. “You surprised me.”

“Clearly.” Disapproval hardened his father’s face as he entered the room fully, approaching Adrien’s end of the long dining table. He did not take a seat himself. And Adrien did not expect him to. It was rare enough that his father took any time out of his day to visit Adrien during meals, especially as early as breakfast, and so Adrien knew not to expect his father to sit down and eat with him unless it was literally Christmas Day. And even then… 

“You’re not eating your breakfast?” Gabriel accused. The disapproval in his face set in further. But there was something else emanating from him as well. Something foreign. Adrien would almost say it was akin to concern, but Adrien knew better than to believe his father was genuinely _that_ concerned about him. Even with this whole Marinette catastrophe going on. 

Adrien answered him meekly, “I am eating, Father. I mean, I will. I just…haven’t…yet.” 

“Yes, you will,” Gabriel affirmed sternly. “I want that plate cleared before you take any steps outside of this house, do you understand me?”

Adrien couldn’t help it as his head angled sideways and one of his eyebrows raised just a bit. “Uh… Yes, Father…?” 

The last time Adrien had been nagged at directly by his father about ‘clearing his plate’ had been years ago at least. Adrien was aware that he was still growing, and that had the ‘high metabolism of a teenage boy’ (on top of the exercise of flinging himself across rooftops on the daily) and yadda yadda yadda, but his father never actually…cared about that stuff. If anything, it would be Nathalie who gently nudged Adrien about small things concerning his well-being. Never his father. Not since his mother had gone away. 

“Just eat your breakfast before you leave,” Gabriel said flatly. 

“Of course, Father,” Adrien replied, composing himself. He couldn’t tell whether to be joyed that his father was actually _seeing_ him for once, or if this only meant that now his father was about to start nitpicking the tiny details of Adrien’s life even deeper. 

Maybe, though, maybe his father’s intentions laid somewhere inbetween? That would be a good thing, right? Adrien liked to hope so.

“Alright then,” Gabriel concluded. “Now about your friend Marinette—”

Adrien’s heart clenched tightly. It suffocated him. He tried not to let it show. 

“—I’ve met with her parents, and after speaking with the detectives, it seems as though it is most likely that she ran away.”

Had Adrien not been in the presence of his father, he would have barked out a dry laugh at how completely far off the mark that was. 

“But there is little evidence to go on,” his father continued, “and Marinette’s parents do not seem to be aware of any reason for her to have run away—though it is not usually the parents who know of these reasons. You were good friends with her, Adrien. So if she told you anything, any secrets, anything that might indicate why she left or where she is, then I need to know.”

Adrien felt his whole body sink, as if quicksand were pulling on him, dragging him down into the depths of his chair. It was so difficult to sit up straight in the air surrounding him. 

No, Marinette hadn’t told Adrien anything. If she had, then Adrien would’ve been able to send Master Fu to gather ingredients for the dream spell two days sooner. 

But of course, if Marinette’s secrets were what his father was looking for, Adrien knew them all now. He knew all the magical top-secret secrets of Paris. But there was no way he could let his father anywhere near those. While Adrien did appreciate his father’s diligent help, his father had to be kept strictly on the path of a wild goose chase for his own safety. 

Chat Noir would take care of the real mess.

“Marinette…wouldn’t have run away,” Adrien answered. “She does get stressed sometimes with school and all her projects and…extracurriculars, but overall, she was happy.” Adrien’s gaze drifted down to the silver glittering on his right ring finger. “She had a lot on her plate, but she was so good at managing it all. She likes accomplishing things. She’s great at it. She was just… We were happy.”

“We?” His father eyed him sharply. 

Blood rushed to Adrien’s cheeks. “I-I mean we as friends.” And also as a superhero partnership, but his father didn’t need to know that particular detail. “All of us,” Adrien reiterated, “Marinette, Alya, Nino, and I, we were all happy.”

“So you should know her well enough to know where she likes to hide,” his father said, “where she would go.”

“Well… normally she’d go to me,” Adrien admitted quietly. On the rooftops, late at night. Hidden high up on the beams of the Eiffel Tower. “If she needs to confide in anyone, or somewhere to go, she comes to me. And if not me, then Alya. And if not me or Alya, then…I don’t know. I’ve already checked with all of her other friends, and all the restaurants and shops she likes, but it’s like she just disappeared into thin air without any reason or warning.” 

“What about the night Marinette ran away?” Gabriel questioned. “How was she acting then?” 

The brilliant smile that had sparkled upon Marinette’s face back at Alya’s birthday party flashed in Adrien’s head, followed by the sour irritation that had glinted in Ladybug’s eyes behind her spotted mask as the two of them had taken down the Baller and his exploding basketballs that had interrupted the party. 

But Adrien’s father wasn’t asking about Ladybug. 

“Marinette had been enjoying the party,” Adrien answered. “She was smiling. A lot. And laughing, she was laughing. Real laughter.” Until Hawk Moth had stained her heart by dispersing all of her hard work and planning. 

“And?” Gabriel pressed, as if it were written on Adrien’s forehead that he was hiding much more. 

Adrien gulped. “…And…I-I don’t know,” he lied. “Everything was fine, and then we heard explosions down the street from that akuma. We all ran to hide, and I got split up from Marinette. Then when we regrouped after the attack, nobody knew where she was.”

“Who were you hiding with?”

“…Nino and Alya.”

Adrien wished his father had asked him all this _before_ Adrien had learned the real truth of what had happened that night. He would have been able to sound much more convincing. Adrien just had to pray now that the genuine sadness on his face would cover for the missing halves to the truths of his words.

His father let out a sigh, and adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You really don’t know anything?” 

Adrien hung his head. “I’m sorry, Father. I really, really wish I did.” Tears threatened Adrien’s eyes. This was the most honest truth of them all. He would give anything to know where Marinette was now. He would fight a hundred akumas just to know she was okay. 

“Very well then,” his father said. “The investigation is well under way so we should have more answers soon. And this afternoon you are to join me for a brief television appearance regarding our support for this situation. Nathalie will fill you in on the details.”

“Yes, Father.”

With apparently no other matters to discuss, his father nodded in closing and turned right on his heels to exit the dining hall. But when he reached the doorway, he paused. His head remained forward, and he didn’t so much as glance back towards Adrien.

“Clear plate.” he said. 

“Yes, Father.”

Adrien watched him walk away completely before turning back to the cold omelette and soggy fruit still waiting before him. 

His stomach churned. 

“Hey, Plagg, I’ll give you ten bucks if you eat half of this for me.” 

The kwami came out of hiding from Adrien’s shirt, floating leisurely up into the air in front of Adrien. “Not a chance, kid. You heard your father. Also I have no need for the concept of human money.”

“I’ll make it twenty.”

“Nooope.”

“There’s cheese in the omelette.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Adrien rested his chin in his hand as he watched his kwami set to work on the less-than-appealing breakfast. Adrien really didn’t mind letting it go. In a short while he would be dropped off at school, and if he was quick, he could pop across the street where there were warm, fresh-baked croissants with his name on them. And if he was really lucky, there may even be some hot chocolate too.

❖❖❖

“Get up.”

Gabriel’s sharp voice pierced through Marinette’s slumber, dragging her back into the waking world that she’d spent another entire night hopelessly trying to escape from. 

She had still only been able to get short spurts of actual sleep, all plagued by nightmares, and so of course right when she’d finally, _finally_ , begun to fall into a tranquil darkness of sorts, Gabriel just had to come into the room and ruin it. 

Marinette didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t give Gabriel any recognition that she’d heard him despite his voice clearly coming from right in front of her. She just remained as she was, sitting beneath the window with her cheek resting against her drawn-up knees, her chained arms looped around her legs. The only change in her at all was the slight increase of her heartbeat. But it seemed that even her heart didn’t have the stamina to pound sporadically in fear anymore, even when in the presence of Hawk Moth. 

"Get. Up.” The command turned more stern this time.

Marinette slowly raised her head from her knees as if she were lifting a boulder from the bottom of a pit, though only so she could send a silent glare to Gabriel for disturbing her sleep. He matched her stare, staring back down at her in a threat to obey him. But his face kept moving around in Marinette’s vision. Freckles of stars blotted out the details. 

“Marinette,” Gabriel warned. 

If he honestly thought that Marinette would do as he said, then he would have to settle for disappointment. Even if she wanted to, Marinette didn’t think she could stand very well. And since Gabriel was the one telling her to get up, of course she wasn’t going to do it. Marinette was beyond over this. Over all of this. 

She held her glare at him. “Fuck off.”

Gabriel’s large opened palm slapped against her left cheek, and the world went spinning around Marinette like a top had been set off and she was riding at the center. All Marinette could do about it was take in deep breaths and let the stinging pain run its course. She couldn’t tell whether she was about to pass out or puke or both. 

“Get up,” Gabriel said again. “You need to take a bath. You’ve been sitting in that same blood-stained dress for too many days.”

The glare souring Marinette’s face morphed into something of disgusted confusion. Was Gabriel stupid? There was no way Marinette was going to take a bath here. She would never put herself in such a vulnerable situation, she still had a shred of dignity left. And Gabriel should already know that since he was so intent on spying on her mind.

And even if Marinette _did_ want to take a bath here, she’d long since discovered that the manacles shackled around her wrists prevented her from doing it entirely. She could reach the bathtub, yes, but she couldn’t get her dress off, her arms were locked together, and she couldn’t even use her right hand. The most Marinette would be able to do would be to get her freaking feet wet. And now Gabriel was here _patronizing_ her over it when it was his fault to begin with? 

With her gaze steaming, Marinette gritted out, “I _can’t_ take a bath. You chained me to the floor because you’re a _psychopath_.” 

A second slap blew against her same cheek. Marinette teetered forward, barely catching herself up by her outstretched left arm as her legs collapsed down beside her. Deep, uneven pants left her lips. Her eyes half-flitted shut. A few stray tears leaked out in response to the pain. Something dripped onto the hardwood floor directly beneath her face. Something red. 

Marinette wondered if two slaps was all it really took to break her nose. 

It hurt like it was. 

Gabriel didn’t seem to care either way as he said, “Your chains will be removed for the duration of your bath.” He kept his tone strict and without room for argument. 

Of course, Marinette would argue with him until her last breath, until—

The meaning of his words registered with her, and Marinette tried to hide her sudden spark of eagerness as her head tilted back up to him like a puppet being pulled by a string, the bitter taste of blood staining her lips. This couldn’t be real. There was no possible way Gabriel would just take off the chains. He would be practically handing her a golden opportunity to escape, topped with a sparkling bow.

Marinette narrowed her gaze, eyeing Gabriel wearily. “…Really?” she asked. 

Gabriel nodded. “Provided you are under supervision at all times, of course.” He turned his attention towards the door of the bathroom, and Marinette followed his gaze to find Nathalie popping out through the doorway from inside, where she waved to Marinette with a shallow smile. 

Marinette hadn’t even realized that Nathalie was in the room at all. And after taking a few moments to cringe at the sight of her, Marinette understood what Gabriel meant. 

“You mean I have to have Nathalie _in the bathroom_ to take a bath?!” Marinette exclaimed with the scraps of voice she had left, whipping her focus back to Gabriel. 

Gabriel didn’t even bother replying out loud. He simply stared down at her with raised eyebrows and deadpanned eyes. An expression Marinette could translate as ‘villain’ for ‘dur.’ 

Marinette scoffed in disbelief. “You cannot be serious.”

The dangerous flash in Gabriel’s eyes clearly conveyed that he was.

“Absolutely not,” Marinette protested. “No way. I’m staying right here.” She would much rather figure some other way out of her chains than risk having to be _naked_ in front of _Nathalie_. 

_That_ would be true torture. 

But Gabriel’s sharp gaze never wavered, and he said, “You can bathe either willingly or by force, Marinette, it makes no difference to me. I assumed you would rather be conscious for it, but it seems I was mistaken—”

“No!” Marinette blurted in a panic. She panted heavily from the sudden exertion, fighting to stay sitting upright, supported by nothing but her wobbly left arm. “No, please… I don’t want to be drugged again.” The hostility in her voice had vanished into thin air, replaced with pure cowardly weakness. 

Gabriel’s eyes threatened her from behind his glasses. “That’s not how you address me.”

The boulder that was Marinette’s head grew too heavy for her shoulders. She let it fall forward, and the tears that mixed with the blood on her chin were not only caused by pain now, but utter shame as well. 

“Please don’t, sir,” she murmured. 

The words burned her throat, they scorched her lips, and Marinette braced herself to be hit again. Was this all her life was now? Always waiting to be hurt, yet unable to do anything to stop it? Just taking it and taking it, over and over? Her body wouldn’t hold out forever. She knew it wouldn’t. She was already too close to breaking completely. 

“Very well then,” Gabriel said, accepting her plea by some miracle. “Give me your wrists.”

Hesitantly, Marinette sat back, shifting her weight so she could lift her hands up to Gabriel. It took all of her strength just to keep them held out in the air, and she flinched as she waited for his next strike, for this all to turn out to be nothing but a cruel joke. 

But somehow Gabriel actually seemed…serious about this. About removing her chains for a ‘bath.’ And so Marinette forced her hands to remain in the air. She absolutely could not let herself get drugged again.

What she felt though, was neither a strike to her face, nor her manacles falling away. Instead, Gabriel’s fingers took a firm hold of her right wrist.

“If I take these off,” he said carefully, “you will still obey me. Do you understand me?”

Marinette’s heart rate picked up in a mixture of fear and anticipation. Obviously if Gabriel really did take the manacles off, she would make a run for it the second she could. Marinette didn’t care if all the odds were stacked against her. She didn’t care how exhausted she was. If this was her one golden opportunity, then she had to use it. She was definitely _not_ actually taking the bath. 

But in order to even have a shot at escaping, she had to convince Gabriel that she was. 

She could do this. It was a simple plan. Lie. Run. Be free. 

So taking in several deep breaths, Marinette ignored the sharp, stinging pain in her cheek and nose, and she nodded to Gabriel. 

And it only earned her a third slap to her wrecked face. 

Marinette fell to the floor, coughing on the blood pouring out of her nose. She didn’t even know what it was that she’d done this time. And she didn’t have the strength to push herself back up, nor the bravery to ask why. She just wished Gabriel would stop. Wasn’t she injured enough?

Apparently not. Gabriel’s fingers dug into her hair, and Marinette swallowed down fresh sobs that wanted to pour out of her as Gabriel pulled her up until she was sitting again. His other hand took hold of her jaw, squaring her face directly at his, and in a slow, dangerous voice, he said, “Answer me correctly this time. If I take these chains off, you will still obey me. _Do you understand me?”_

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He let go of her head. 

Marinette reached up to wipe the blood from her face, but before she could get that far, Gabriel grabbed onto not only her right wrist again, but both wrists now, holding them in each of his hands with a sturdy grip. 

Marinette was so dizzy. So horribly unsteady. In so much pain. But she had to focus. Gabriel was still going to take the chains off. Marinette had done the lying, and now came the running. Then she would be free. 

She could do this. 

She had to.

“Nooroo,” Gabriel called, and Marinette watched in astonishment as a tiny purple kwami suddenly zipped out into the air beside them from somewhere on Gabriel’s person.

Marinette had heard stories about Nooroo from Master Fu and the other kwamis, but she had never seen him herself before. Had he been here the whole time? He must have been. Kwamis always stayed with their holders. 

But why bring Nooroo out now? 

Marinette looked up to Gabriel in confusion, her wrists still firmly in his grasp. 

“Remove the chains,” Gabriel commanded to his kwami. 

Nooroo nodded with large, worried eyes. “Yes, Master.” 

_Master?_

Marinette couldn’t tell if Nooroo was just scared in the moment, or if he was always like this around Gabriel. Though the fear protruding from his tiny little body seemed ingrained, like it had been growing within him for a long, long time. Marinette ached to tell Nooroo that she would save him, that once she escaped here, she would come back for him. But Marinette kept her mouth shut, and Nooroo did the same, not daring to meet her eyes for more than a few seconds before he darted down into the keyhole of one of her manacles. 

_Of course Gabriel wouldn’t carry around an actual key that she could steal._

Nooroo moved from one manacle to the other, turning the locks one at a time until they each clicked once and the chains fell to the floor, though the manacles themselves did not loosen from around Marinette’s wrists. But that was irrelevant now. The chains were gone. No longer was Marinette anchored to this polished hardwood floor. 

Adrenaline rushed through her like a tidal wave. The only thing still standing in her way from running the hell out of here, was Gabriel’s two hands on her wrists. Mere pebbles in her path. 

Gabriel tugged her up from the floor until she was standing, and Marinette forced herself not to glance over to the door that led out of the room so as to not give herself away. The door she couldn’t reach. The door she _used_ to not be able to reach. The door that she could reach now. 

Marinette’s heart pounded in a frenzy. Blood danced on her tongue. Somewhere in the distance, Gabriel called her name, but Marinette wasn’t listening to him anymore. Gathering every ounce of force she could muster, she abruptly pivoted sideways and kicked out a foot directly at Gabriel’s knees in one quick, strong motion. Or at least, strong enough for Gabriel to loosen his grip and stumble back. 

That was all Marinette needed. 

She yanked her hands free from his fingers, and she ran. She ran straight for that white door she’d never been able to reach. Her injuries didn’t matter. None of her scalding pain mattered. Because once Marinette made it past that door, everything would be okay again. Because if she didn’t make it past that door… Marinette pushed that train of thought from her mind, focusing only on the white in front of her. 

She made it all of four long steps before a hand hooked into the collar of her dress from behind her. 

“Let go!” Marinette screamed as her heels dug into the floor. She used everything she had left, pulling energy from the very air around her, in her fight against the hand clawed into her dress. 

_Ignore the pain. Run. Be free._

Gabriel used his grip to hurl Marinette down to the floor, and the pain that engulfed her upon the impact was only secondary to the pain that her heart felt as it drowned in a flood of sheer despair. Immediately, Marinette pushed herself up onto her elbows, coughing harshly, and before she could even think about standing back up, Gabriel grabbed her left forearm and twisted it behind her back, pinning her down to the floor while his other hand pushed her head down, her non-abused cheek pressing hard against the cold wood. 

After spending days with her hands locked in front of her, Marinette’s shoulder was not at all accustomed to being bent backwards at such an angle. 

“Let go of me!” Marinette shrieked in a sob. Her struggling was only effective in worsening the throbbing that pulsed through her entire body. Her shoulder felt like it was going to fall off.

She had failed. 

She’d had one opportunity, one chance to escape. And it had gone up in flames. 

And now she would too. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Marinette,” Gabriel snapped as he held her down. “You’re a bad liar.”

“No!” she coughed. “No! Let me go! You can’t—You—” The despair crushing her chest was a physical pain, she could feel her lungs suffocating. Marinette couldn’t stay here. She _needed_ to run. 

But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She was trapped in a nightmare, but every time she blinked she was still awake. 

Then Gabriel’s voice was calling Nathalie over to them, and Marinette wondered whether he would have Nathalie put her right back into her chains, or if they would drug her again. Or both. Probably both. 

A knee dug into Marinette’s back. A pair of hands wrapped around her forearms, pulling them forward until Marinette’s arms were outstretched in front of herself. These hands pulling on her were soft. Nathalie’s hands.

Marinette turned her head as much as she could to see Nathalie crouched a few feet in front of her, holding her arms out straight in a gentle, yet firm hold. One Marinette couldn’t pull free from. 

But despite being restrained by both Gabriel and Nathalie, Marinette couldn’t feel any needles trespassing through her skin. And Nooroo wasn’t reattaching her chains.

And that was when Marinette realized that what she _could_ feel, was the bottom of her dress being dragged up her back. 

“Stop! What are you doing!” she choked out in a panic. Marinette couldn’t see Gabriel’s face from this angle, only the blur of Nathalie in front of her. And so it was Nathalie who answered. 

“Preparing you for your bath,” Nathalie replied calmly. 

Marinette wasn’t sure how much more panic her heart could take. “I told you guys, I’m not taking one!” she yelled, and desperately she tugged away from all the hands swarming her body. 

But Gabriel’s voice barked back at her. “I don’t recall giving you a choice.” And his hands never ceased their movements as they pulled her dress up and up and up. 

Marinette screamed in defiance as the bundle of pink fabric was pulled over her head completely, and then over her outstretched arms, her captors working in perfect coordination to prevent her from escaping their hold while they removed her dress. And then just like that, Marinette was left lying there pinned to the floor in nothing but her bra and underwear. 

He couldn’t do this. Gabriel couldn’t do this. 

“Stop! Stop! Let go of me!” Marinette screamed in a strangled cry. But the monsters hovering over her ignored her. While Nathalie kept her arms restrained, large, unrelenting fingers brushed against the skin of Marinette’s upper back, unclasping her bra and quickly removing it over her arms as well. Marinette had never experienced something so defiling in her life. Her voice was screaming on autopilot, begging for them to stop. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be falling anymore. She didn’t want to crash and burn. She didn’t want to be tortured or hurt or slapped or stripped. Marinette didn’t want this. 

As the very last article of clothing was pulled down her body, down her legs and over her toes, the screech Marinette let out was purely beast in origin. But as soon as they were off, Gabriel’s hands gripped onto her waist, and Marinette was swiftly picked up into the air and tossed over his shoulder like a rag doll. A naked rag doll in the hands of a supervillain. 

Gabriel had committed countless crimes against her in this room, but this was just insane. 

Marinette kicked her legs, and pounded on his back. Screaming. Sobbing. “Put me down! Put me down!”

“For Christ’s sake, it is _just_ a _bath_ ,” Gabriel huffed out, and the world continued to spin wildly out of control around Marinette as he carried her across the room. 

She couldn’t wriggle away from him no matter how hard she tried. And she was scared of falling to the floor. “I don’t want it!” she cried.

“You need it.”

“No, I don’t want it! I don’t want it!”

The hands that were gripped tightly onto her waist suddenly raised her into the air again, and then without warning, Marinette was being plopped down into warm water with an abrupt splash that shocked her right out of her wailing. 

She sat there in the half-filled bathtub, sniveling for a few moments, blinking in an attempt to get some semblance of orientation back. Her lower back stung as though it had been struck by lightning. 

The instant she noticed Gabriel standing beside the bathtub, watching her, Marinette shrunk into a ball in the water, hiding herself away with her forehead shoved into her clenched, drawn-up knees, and the tips of her fingers shoved into her ears. 

“Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.” The word escaped endlessly from her lips, tangled with her tears and bloody sniffles. But Marinette wasn’t even screaming anymore. Her voice was only a squeaky broken record now. 

She couldn’t get away. She couldn’t do anything. There was nowhere left to hide. Marinette just needed everything to disappear. She needed everything to stop. But it wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. 

Large fingers wrapped around her right wrist. Gabriel’s fingers. And the moment they touched her skin, Marinette’s entire body broke out into awful trembling shakes.

“Stop. Stop. Stop.”

But Gabriel forcefully tugged on her wrist to pull her injured fingers back away from her ear. “Listen to me,” he said. His voice sounded too close, like he was crouched right beside her outside the tub. 

Marinette pulled against his grip, trying to recover her ear. She didn’t want to hear him. “No. No, stop.”

“Marinette, listen to me,” Gabriel said again, and Marinette realized now that his voice…it was different than it had been a minute ago, in the other room. Gabriel wasn’t speaking angrily or threateningly anymore, he had gone back to his calm voice from the other day. Or at least close it. 

But Marinette didn’t care how much serenity Gabriel was faking into his voice, she didn’t want to hear him at all. She needed him to stop.

“I will not hurt you if you just cooperate, alright?” Gabriel said, keeping Marinette’s wrist held away from her ear. “It’s only a bath.”

That was the sickest joke Marinette had ever heard. Gabriel? Not hurting her? The colorful map of bruises coating her body could testify otherwise. 

Marinette kept her face buried into her knees as she blubbered out her string of “No’s,” and her eyes were squeezed shut so tightly that it hurt. 

She kept trying to pull her hand back over her ear. 

And Gabriel kept pulling it away so that she was forced to listen to him.

“You know that you’re taking this bath no matter what, so why not make it easier on yourself?" His voice had become so light, so persuasive. "Just stop fighting, Marinette. Stop resisting. And you won’t have to get hurt.” Marinette knew he was right, at least about the first part. She didn’t have a choice in this bath or in anything else she did anymore. If Gabriel wanted her to look at him, he forced her to look at him. If Gabriel wanted her to say ‘sir’, then he forced her to say ‘sir.’ If Gabriel wanted her to take a bath, then he would literally pick her up and place her in the bathtub himself, apparently.

Gabriel always hurt her until she did whatever he wanted of her. And Gabriel always got what he wanted, save for only the secrets locked away deep within her mind. 

The only real choice Marinette had now, was whether to comply with his commands or not. Whether to surrender herself or not. And Gabriel had said this before, that if she ‘behaved,’ then she wouldn’t have to get hurt. 

But a true promise to not hurt her… that only sounded like a horribly bad deception.

“No. No, you’re lying,” Marinette sniveled from within her ball. “You’ll hit me anyway.”

“No, of course I wouldn’t,” Gabriel eased. “It’s as I told you, there’s no need for punishment if you behave.” 

But there was no way to tell if that was just a lie too. Marinette had no idea if Gabriel would stick to his word if she were to actually obey his orders. 

The only truth Marinette was certain of anymore, was that she couldn’t afford to get injured any further. 

Her body was at its limit. 

But Marinette couldn’t just _give in_ now either. That would literally be giving into Hawk Moth. Handing him victory. It would be like throwing away everything she’d ever done to protect this city. 

Marinette would never be able to look Chat Noir in the eye again. Or Adrien. Or anyone. 

“You don’t have to keep fighting like this,” Gabriel went on, and his voice was so smooth now, so soft, like warm honey. “You don’t have to pretend to be a hero anymore. The world no longer rests upon your shoulders, little bug. You can let go now. You can stop resisting my command. It’s alright.”

Marinette wondered if this was how he spoke to the victims he akumatized. If it was how he convinced them to turn to evil.

“Just obey,” said Gabriel. “And you’ll feel better when you’re clean.”

Marinette couldn’t stop her trembling. She was always trembling. Always crying. Always so, so scared. 

She shouldn’t listen to Gabriel. She shouldn’t trust him. She shouldn’t be selfish and place her own safety over everyone else’s, especially when she had no guarantee that she would even truly be safe. She shouldn’t disobey her duty. 

But Marinette was so tired of making the wrong choice. 

“It hurts,” she choked out. 

Her body. Her mind. Everything hurt. All the time. It never stopped. It never stopped. 

“Then obey me,” Gabriel said, his deep voice a liquid gold. “Give me your arm like a behaved little bug, and let’s get you feeling better.”

Marinette was still tight in her ball, and even though she shouldn’t have had any strength left, she was still doing all that she could to pull against Gabriel’s grip on her wrist. 

Until… Until she wasn’t pulling against his grip anymore. 

Until she stopped. 

Marinette’s breathing was erratic through her tears. She was terrified out of her mind. She hated herself for what she was doing. But still, she ceased her resistance against Gabriel’s grip on her wrist, letting him have control of her right arm, though she didn’t dare uncurl even an inch from the rest of her ball, and her lips didn’t form anything close to words.

Gabriel noticed the very moment she stopped resisting. 

“That’s it,” he soothed. “Good girl.”

Marinette wanted to be anywhere else on the planet but here, anywhere else in the universe. 

Gabriel drew her hand out beside her, and Marinette felt him press the back of her wrapped hand lightly against the metal pole handle on the rim of the bathtub as her eyes remained closed. Marinette didn’t understand what Gabriel wanted from her. It wasn’t like she could hold onto the handle—her fingers were wrapped together, and her hand was busted. And she didn’t think she was supposed to be climbing out already. But then Marinette felt something like thin, hard plastic wrap around the skin of her wrist just above her manacle, binding her wrist to the pole. A zip tie, most likely.

Marinette’s panic immediately began to spiral in her chest again, but the stirring storm was halted a few seconds later when Marinette felt a sprinkling of magic flitter over her wrist—a familiar sensation, one that came only from kwamis. And then for the first time since Marinette had been trapped in the yellow room, the manacle around her right wrist was removed completely. 

Marinette waited, curled in her ball with her right arm drawn out beside her.

But there was no new pain. 

The zip tie that bound her hand to the pole was secure, but it wasn’t exceedingly tight nor did it dig into her sore skin. Then the tapping of Gabriel’s footsteps against the tile floor of the bathroom moved around to Marinette’s left side, and even though she could guess what was next, she still flinched badly when Gabriel’s fingers covered her left hand and gently pried her fingers away from that ear too. 

Gabriel’s movements were slow, as if he were actually taking care not to frighten Marinette more than she already was. As if he were actually trying to be delicate with her fragile body. Marinette didn’t know what was real from him. 

While Gabriel fastened her left wrist to the left pole handle, he resumed his honey-soaked words, and Marinette stayed curled tightly into her knees as both of her arms were bound to the tub on either side of herself. 

“You belong to me now,” Gabriel said softly. “I am your master.” The manacle around Marinette’s left wrist fell away, and her skin from beneath it was finally met with fresh air. But then Marinette tensed as she felt fingers land on the back of her head, brushing over her hair. 

But there was no grabbing. No yanking. Gabriel was only stroking her head in gentle pets, and his voice was even and sedating.

“Your miraculous is mine to wield. Your body is mine to control. Your future, mine to mold. I own every part of you,” he said.

It wasn’t true. Or maybe Marinette just didn’t want it to be true. 

…Was it true?

“Look at me, little bug.”

Marinette’s eyes were still sealed shut. She was shaking like mad, and Gabriel’s order only made it worse. 

But Marinette was scared to refuse. She was scared that Gabriel would hurt her again, and that it would do too much damage. So gradually, inch by inch, Marinette began lifting her head up from her knees. 

Her eyes stung with tears as they adjusted to the white light of the bathroom, and she remained with her chest leaned forward into her legs so as to keep herself covered as much as possible. Gabriel, she found, was sitting on a stool to her left. His blazer jacket was gone, and his shirt sleeves had been neatly rolled up to his elbows. Marinette didn’t know where the stool had come from or when Gabriel had taken off his jacket, but the thoughts were quick to fade from her attention, and one of Gabriel’s hands was still petting the back of her head, coaxing her as she lifted her eyes up to him. There was only a faint trace of smug victory on his face. The rest of his expression was mild. Kind, almost. His eyes were strangely sincere. Or he was faking them to be. 

Marinette didn’t say a word. The only sounds that left her were wet sniffles and ragged breaths. She didn’t know how to form words anymore. Her mind was too far gone. Her thoughts kept deteriorating into blank, empty spaces.

The only bit of relief that she felt, was as she distantly realized that Gabriel wasn’t taking advantage of the situation to stare at her naked body. He wasn’t looking anywhere except her face, and he wasn’t touching her anywhere except her head, like he only wanted to make sure that she was still coherent enough to follow his order to look at him. That was about all Marinette was coherent enough to do. 

“Good,” Gabriel praised. “That’s good.” His palm moved lightly over her head in a slow, rhythmic pace, and Marinette tried weakly to gain control of her breathing. 

In. And out.

In. And out…

She wasn’t sure when exactly her gaze drifted away from Gabriel or when he had let go of her, but suddenly a white washcloth was in his hand and it was coming straight for her face. Marinette flinched away, letting out a strangled yelp, her wrists tugging against their zip ties. But Gabriel simply placed a hand on her right cheek, touching her with only enough force to keep her head steady and nothing more, and as Marinette’s eyes remained shut in fear, she felt the wet washcloth begin to wipe delicately over her chin. It wiped again. And again. And Marinette could feel Gabriel’s fingers on her face, but…he still wasn’t slapping her. He wasn’t hurting her. 

She peeked her eyes open. 

The washcloth was turning red. Blood, from her nosebleed. 

“It’s not broken,” Gabriel said as Marinette opened her eyes. “It stopped bleeding on its own. It’ll be just fine.”

It didn’t feel fine. Marinette’s nose and left cheek throbbed relentlessly, and the pain was only provoked as Gabriel continued wiping the blood from her face. Marinette kept waiting for Gabriel to drop this whole act, for him to go back to slapping her. But then his hands were leaving her face altogether to rinse out the washcloth in the water of the bathtub without having lifted a single finger towards her in ill-intention. 

Marinette didn’t look down as she heard the water sloshing around her. She didn’t want to see the water turn red too.

“Sit back.” 

The order was gentle, but Marinette glanced up to Gabriel with pure fear leaking from her eyes, and she stayed right where she was, leaning into her raised knees.

“We need to clean up the blood, Marinette,” he said. “You got it all over yourself. Sit back.” 

There was no way Marinette could just _do_ that, though. Sitting back would take away the only sliver of cover she still had left. Marinette would be totally exposed. She didn’t want to be exposed like that in front of Adrien’s dad. Wasn’t Nathalie supposed to be the one in here with her?

But then Gabriel’s voice gained an edge. “Marinette,” he warned, and Marinette knew she had to do it. She had to sit back or Gabriel would hurt her and force her to do it anyway. 

Silent tears fell onto her freshly-wiped cheeks. Her sniffles sliced the air. And the water flowed languidly around her as she slowly leaned back from her knees, her arms extending out fully with her wrists pulling lightly on their restraints. 

Marinette couldn’t look at Gabriel now. She fixed her gaze on the white wall in front of herself, her vision blurring into nothing. That was all she wanted. To become nothing. 

The wet fabric of the washcloth rubbed against her knees which poked out of the water, wiping where her face had pressed into them. Marinette didn’t watch. She only looked at the white. Then the washcloth moved on from her legs, and she felt it touch against the top of her chest just below her collar bone. She couldn’t breathe in enough air. She tried desperately, not wanting to be making any sounds at all, but she was left struggling for breath through her tears as Gabriel wiped her upper chest with the washcloth where the blood must have dripped down from her chin.

This was all her fault. If she hadn’t back-talked him, then maybe he wouldn’t have hit her so hard and her nose wouldn’t have bled and there wouldn't have been anything for Gabriel to wipe up in the first place. 

Her breathing only began to actually slow down when Gabriel backed away from her again to wring out the washcloth. 

He had told her yesterday that there were other people who wanted to kidnap her, people with ‘less favorable' intentions. Marinette wasn’t naïve, she knew what that really meant. But Gabriel had claimed that he wasn’t one of those people. He’d said that Marinette should consider herself lucky to be held captive by him, and that he was protecting her from the truly bad people. 

Marinette didn’t believe she was lucky. Not without her miraculous. Not without Tikki. But she couldn’t deny either, that once again, it turned out Gabriel had been telling the truth. Just now he had wiped the blood away from her bare chest without touching her inappropriately. And it really didn’t seem like he had any inclination to at all. He may have stripped her down for the bath, but nothing about this was sexual. This was simply a villain who got his high from controlling other people. That’s what this was. His need to have power over others. Marinette was just his personal pet. 

She understood now why he’d called her that, and a mewl left her throat as she stifled a sob. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update!!: hey hey, i know i said the next part of this chapter was coming soon and now its been over a month 😶shortly after i posted this chapter some giant events happened in my life that left me without any free time to write. i am definitely continuing this story and have loads more coming, so things may take a little longer than planned now but stay tuned for more on the way 😉


	12. Everything

The bloodied water surrounding Marinette was beginning to slowly drain out of the bathtub. Once Gabriel had finished wiping away the blood from her nosebleed, he’d unwrapped her right hand from its bandages and carefully dabbed the wet washcloth over her stitched skin. Cleaning it, supposedly. And when the washcloth had been rinsed, the water in the tub had steeped with more red. Then Gabriel had moved on and removed the smaller bandage from her neck, dabbing the washcloth there too, and then on her lower back where the other day his belt had struck her so recklessly.

Every place the washcloth touched her, it stung as if it were a knife piercing Marinette’s skin.

And the water was steeped with more red.

But it was all draining away now, leaving Marinette naked and vulnerable to the air with only an icy blanket of goosebumps to cover her. The zip ties restraining her to the tub railings had yet to be removed. Marinette was simply stuck there, wet, nearly frozen solid. She didn’t know what exactly Gabriel wanted with her, or what he was planning. He hadn’t even really washed her, not with soap. He’d only wiped away the blood from all the injuries that he himself had inflicted. 

In a feeble attempt to preserve what little body heat she could, Marinette leaned forward, bringing her chest to her knees, huddling in on herself for warmth. 

Apparently even that was a crime. 

“I said sit back,” Gabriel reprimanded almost instantly upon her movement. It wasn’t the harshest tone he’d ever used, but that didn’t make the weight of his threat any lighter. 

Shivering, Marinette leaned back correctly into place, with her arms extended, as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She had no idea what to do then. She was freezing. She was exposed. The water of the tub was nearly gone, and she felt like she was going to die. Whether it was from the cold, or by Gabriel’s hand, or from lack of food—or all of it.

The drain of the tub gurgled as the last bit of water vanished completely. 

Marinette couldn’t stay in this cold for much longer. She wouldn’t stay conscious. She couldn’t bear it. Everything hurt. She couldn’t do this.

Suddenly the faucet turned back on, surprising her with a splash.

Warm, nearly hot, water began pouring into the bath in a loud stream that echoed against the silence of the large bathroom. Goosebumps flared across Marinette’s skin, and as if suddenly remembering how to breathe, she took in a deep inhale of the steam rising up into the air, relishing in the heat that began to slowly surround her.

“See?” Gabriel’s honey voice pierced through her bubble of warmth. “It feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Marinette didn’t look over to him. It was a horrible question of him to ask. Nothing about this felt nice. Except…for maybe the heat of the water…and perhaps the lack of new injuries for once. But nothing else about this felt nice. Those small details were vastly drowned out by her constant, aching terror. So Marinette didn’t know how to answer Gabriel’s question. She couldn’t agree with him. She was a bad liar.

Gabriel crouched down behind her, looming over her with his face hovering much too close to her ear, and she quickly realized that not answering him at all had been the wrong choice. 

“You say, ‘Thank you, sir,’” he ordered quietly. 

Marinette’s lips trembled. She couldn’t form words anymore, let alone those ones. It was as if her surrender had cost her the ability to make any coherent sounds at all. Only cries and sobs were in her repertoire now. And of course, the periodic whimper of pain. 

But Gabriel did not back off of her. He stayed right where he was and hummed expectantly in her ear with his deviously gentle facade, prompting her. “Hmm?”

Marinette was shaking. The memory of his belt whipping against her back flashed through her. 

He’d only done it, she knew, because she had refused to answer his questions. If she were to refuse him here too… Marinette never wanted to experience that ever again. 

As she twitched now in the echoing pain, some automatic part of her brain squeezed out the words for her.

“Th-Thank you, sir.”

The sound of her voice was even quieter than the footsteps of a mouse. 

Gabriel eased back from her with a satisfied laughter. “Good girl.”

Marinette remained staring only directly into the white wall in front of herself, even as Gabriel’s fingers gave her shoulder a short, gentle rub. His version of praise. 

She didn’t want to feel his touch anymore. She focused instead on listening to the thick splash of the clear water as it gradually filled the bathtub higher and higher, and to the sound of Gabriel’s footsteps padding away from her…and then back again. He sat down on the stool, and then his hands were in her hair again—brushing it now, she realized. Detangling the array of knots that had formed.

So this was the real bath. 

At the sensation of her hair finally being combed for the first time in days, an involuntary sigh of relief left Marinette’s lips. In her normal life, back in the outside world, she’d always loved the feeling of other people’s hands in her hair, though she would never admit it out loud for embarrassment’s sake. Adrien had figured it out anyway. And so had Chat Noir. But that was only because the two of them were geniuses when it came to braids. Marinette would often leave Adrien’s room with her hair intricately woven, and whenever Chat sneaked into Marinette’s bedroom, he delivered much the same. Now Marinette could only hope that Gabriel hadn’t noticed her breath as he combed.

By the time he finished untangling the knots in her hair, the water level in the bathtub had risen almost to the tops of Marinette’s knees, and the faucet was shut off.

Marinette wished she could move her hands. Her aching shoulders never seemed to catch a break.

“Close your eyes.”

Marinette’s stomach dropped at the command. She glanced over to Gabriel before she could stop herself, enough terror on her face to speak a thousand words.

Gabriel rolled his eyes with a nonchalant air. “So you don’t get _shampoo_ in your eyes,” he clarified.

For a moment, Marinette’s mouth fell agape. Then she turned her gaze back strictly to the white wall. 

Not only was Gabriel refraining from hurting her, but…now he was trying to _prevent_ her from being injured as well? Wouldn’t it be beneficial to him to have her blinded with stinging soap in her eyes? Why should he prevent it? If nothing else, wouldn’t he enjoy watching her writhe in the surprise pain?

“Come on,” Gabriel nudged. “Let’s wash your hair, Marinette.”

It was worded at as a suggestion. Marinette knew it was a threat. 

She closed her eyes. 

Right away, sturdy, yet delicate fingers ran through her hair, brushing it back from her face. She flinched at the touch, but still she forced herself to keep from peeking. If she did, it would be disobeying Gabriel. And he would hurt her. If she kept them closed, then maybe he might just stick to his word and refrain.

Her life depended on that chance. 

She could only wonder what Chat Noir would think of her if he saw her now, though Marinette tried to veer away from the thought as soon as it came to her. The answer was much too heavy for her broken heart to bear. 

Without warning, a hand pressed over her eyelids, and not a moment later it was followed by warm water that poured over her head. Marinette was unable to stop the yelp that squeaked from her. 

“Relax, it’s just water,” Gabriel hushed her.

And so Marinette tried to ease her erratic breath. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t pulling any of his tricks. He wasn’t punishing her. In the darkness behind her eyelids, Gabriel’s voice only began melting into the water engulfing her.

"It’s alright, little bug. Just breathe.”

More water poured into her hair. It was so warm. The perfect temperature. 

Marinette wished Gabriel would stop touching her. 

Out of the steam, a blanket of sweet sugar and blooming flowers filled the air, drawing Marinette’s attention towards the heavenly scent as Gabriel’s hands began working a tranquil massage over her scalp. His light voice wafted through the air. 

“You know, when my son was younger, he didn’t like taking baths either.”

Bile wanted to rise up in Marinette’s throat at such ignorant words. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t like taking baths, she just didn’t like being given them from _him._ She didn’t like being controlled. She didn’t like being _forced_ into a bath. And if this was how Gabriel treated Adrien when he was little, then Marinette couldn’t blame Adrien for not liking baths either. 

It hurt to keep thinking about Adrien.

“He was like a cat,” Gabriel trailed on with his fond memory, as if he were completely oblivious to the torture Marinette was experiencing beneath his hands, “—just terrified of getting wet. One foot in the water and he would start wailing.” 

The mention of cats only trailed Marinette’s mind right back to Chat Noir. She wished he would burst through the window at that exact moment and whisk her away. Even though she knew she would carry too much shame to meet his eyes sincerely, and even though he probably wouldn’t want to see her miserable face ever again, she still wished Chat would save her just this one last time. 

“Emilie and I could only get Adrien to sit still with the promise of cookies after his baths,” Gabriel chuckled lightly to himself. “It’s a wonder he didn’t develop more cavities.”

Of course, the mention of cookies only directed Marinette’s thoughts to her parents’ bakery. And then to her parents themselves. 

She really wished Gabriel would shut up. 

But the sound of his mellow voice carried on, and so Marinette took to simply tuning it out as she gazed endlessly into the blank wall. When it came time for Gabriel to rinse out the shampoo from her hair, his fingers covered her eyes again, shielding her from the soapy water. And again when he finished with the conditioner.

Marinette wished she could disappear. Evaporate into the wind. 

Instead, a washcloth began rubbing against her shoulder. 

She could feel the gentle circles Gabriel created against her skin, and she despised the fact that it was soothing. After spending all that time slumped on the floor against the wall, it felt good to have her shoulders rubbed.

It made her hate herself even more. Hate Gabriel even more. 

Slowly, the washcloth made its way down her arms one by one. It scrubbed away the dirt and sweat, cleansing her from the sliver of hope she’d been clinging onto that Chat Noir would still come to rescue her. By the time Gabriel had worked his way down her body and was scrubbing the bottom of her feet, that tiny sliver had been washed away completely. 

Marinette felt like she was going to break. She felt like she was on the verge of shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. She wished she would. 

Her body felt distant. She was watching everything that was happening from a backseat window. And it was all so corrupted. It felt as if everything she was seeing had been delayed by hours. Like she was late in attending her own demise. 

The washcloth wasn’t rubbing against her anywhere now, and Marinette was getting cold again. She didn’t know how to warm herself up. She just wanted to go to sleep, but some part of her mind that she could no longer reach was forcing her to stay awake. Then hands were gripping her under each of her arms, tugging her upwards.

Marinette blinked as she was pulled to her feet, finding Gabriel standing in front of her, having appeared there out of thin air. She hadn’t been listening to anything he’d said for a while now. It took a moment before she realized that he was _still_ talking to her.

No… That wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t still telling stories of the past anymore, now he was only saying… 

“Marinette?” 

Confusion flooded her as she realized her hands had pulled away from the tub railings without any resistance. The zip ties that had been around her wrists were gone. And the bathtub, it was nearly empty now. The last of the water was already draining away. Again.

Dizziness swarmed around her. How could she not even notice. 

Before she could ponder it for much longer, a large towel was cloaked around her shoulders, and Marinette was painfully reminded of just how bare she was. And the utter humility that came with it. Grasping the edge of the towel with weak fingers, she pulled it to cover herself as much as she could manage before meekly glancing up to Gabriel. 

He held out his palm. An invitation to step out of the bathtub. 

No. Not an invitation. An order. It was always an order. 

Marinette placed a shivering hand in his. 

As Gabriel helped her out of the tub, the room moved around Marinette like waves crashing up and down. Then his hands were on her shoulders, guiding her over to the long counter by the sink, and Marinette was unnervingly aware that were it not for his hands keeping her steady, she probably would not have even had the strength to walk the distance. 

Thankfully, it was not long before the edge of the countertop was within her reach, and as Marinette clung onto it, Gabriel finally let go of her. His hands instead ran a second towel through her hair, pulling—but not yanking. Simply drying the excess water from her hair. 

Marinette tried to focus solely on staying upright, her legs wanting nothing more than to collapse to the ground. 

“Come here.”

Gabriel was standing beside her, and Marinette glanced over, following his voice to find him placing a pile of clothes on the counter. The stack was topped with a pair of pink panties that were definitely not hers. None of the clothes seemed to be. Gabriel wasted no time in picking up the underwear from the top of the pile, and they did look to be just about her size, but... they were not _hers._ Marinette didn’t know who they belonged to. Or if perhaps they had been bought just for her. 

For the sake of her stomach, she figured she was better off not knowing. 

Gabriel held out the fabric in his hands and Marinette stepped into them quickly as she could, excruciatingly embarrassed to have someone dress her like this, like she was a little kid again—and by her _friend’s_ father rather than her own. But aside from that horrid feeling, she really was just glad to finally be covered. 

“Arms up,” Gabriel instructed next.

Nervously, Marinette dropped the towel from around her shoulders and raised her arms as best she could while leaning against the counter for balance support. Had she not been this severely dehydrated and starving, had she not just lost so much blood, she wasn’t sure she would have had the capability to accept the humiliation like this. 

But those kinds of ‘what-ifs’ were useless now. She did accept it. She trembled under her humility’s quake. 

She didn’t have a choice. 

Over her raised arms, Gabriel pulled on a simple cotton bralette, and then a pair of pajama shorts were pulled up to her hips. The shorts were lavender, with a simple pattern of darker purple butterflies, and they did absolutely nothing to warm Marinette’s freezing legs. Usually if she wore patterns, she liked to go for polka-dots or floral designs…which was probably exactly why Gabriel had chosen the clothes he did. He was erasing her past. He was claiming her.

It was stupid, she knew, but Marinette sniffled quietly as it dawned on her that she would probably never be allowed to wear polka-dots again. 

The last piece of clothing remaining from the pile on the counter looked to be a solid lavender t-shirt to match her shorts. Marinette was itching to take whatever warmth it could offer her.

“Turn around,” Gabriel ordered instead. 

Fresh tears welled in her eyes as Marinette stood there half-naked and Gabriel made no move to retrieve the shirt from the counter. She wanted to ask for it, the question on the tip of her tongue. But in reality, she didn’t know where to even begin. Anything she dared to say could set him off and then he would hurt her for it.

But Gabriel seemed to read her burning question from her eyes alone. “In a bit,” he answered. “We’re doing your back first. Turn around.”

Marinette faltered. 

Her back had already been brutalized thoroughly. No, he promised he wouldn’t— 

“ _Bandages_ for your back,” Gabriel clarified abruptly before Marinette could spiral into a full-blown panic. 

Oh… 

Marinette wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. After all, if the injury to her back was really that bad, then why hadn’t he given her bandages for it days ago when he’d hurt her? Although, perhaps the answer was fairly simple—because in his eyes, she hadn’t behaved so she hadn’t deserved his help. Or maybe it was because he knew she simply wouldn’t have stayed still enough to let him apply bandages. But, no, that didn’t make sense either. Gabriel would have forced her to stay still if he wanted to.

Marinette didn’t know what the truth was.

Though she guessed the truth didn’t really matter anymore. 

Still using the counter for support, she turned until she was facing away from Gabriel like he wanted, presenting him with her bare back to either heal or destroy. 

A cold gel was applied to her lower back, and it stung just like her right hand had when Gabriel had forcibly changed its bandages the other day. Only this pain was running across half of her entire back. Shooting out. Spreading through her whole body, up through her neck, and down to where her toes curled against the tile floor. It was difficult for Marinette not to squeal.

“U-Um— M-Mr.— Um, S-Sir…” Her mouth ran before she couldn’t even think to stop it. 

Gabriel’s voice replied to her evenly, despite the fact that she was unable to coherently form a thought. “If you hadn’t disobeyed me, then it wouldn’t hurt like this,” he said without ceasing his attention to her back. “Now stand still.”

Marinette bit down on her lip, leaning into the counter. Her exhausted knees were threatening to give out at any second. This scale of fatigue was like nothing she had ever felt before. Not even after the longest back-to-back akuma battles. Because after those, she would always come home to a full fridge and whatever wonders her father cooked up in the kitchen. 

Now Marinette couldn’t even remember the last thing she’d eaten. It had been too many days ago. 

A soft sheet of something, a gauze pad probably, was pressed against the most painful part of her back, causing Marinette to bite harder down on her lip. Then Gabriel wrapped a white cloth around her stomach, the same material that had been wrapped around her injured hand. 

Marinette wondered, not for the first time, if the skin of her back had been bleeding just like the rest of her always seemed to be. She wondered if a belt could do that.

“Sit.” Gabriel stiffly patted the counter. 

With her stomach now clothed in white stripes, Marinette turned to push herself up onto the counter, trying not to glance too longingly at the shirt still folded beside her. But she was quickly met with a dilemma. The counter was reasonably high—Marinette was reasonably short—and the lack of her usual strength left her unable to push herself up onto the counter top, especially with the pain that shot through her right hand as soon as she tried to put pressure on it. Her intention truly was not to disobey Gabriel this time, she just—couldn’t do it. 

Anxiety clutched her heart as she looked up to him. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes again with a sigh, and in the next moment his hands were gripping under her arms again, lifting her up to seat her on the counter as seamlessly as if she really was a small kid. 

Her legs dangled over the edge, and she let them float there, rejoicing in freedom from the burden of carrying her weight. 

“Honestly,” Gabriel muttered as he shook his head to himself. “What kind of fool gives a helpless little bug like you a miraculous.”

She didn’t say it out loud, but Marinette knew that Master Fu wasn’t the one who’d been foolish. It was her. It was all her. 

Now that she was sat on the counter, Gabriel applied a new smaller band-aid to the soreness on her neck, making no further comment about the miraculous, and a paper cup filled with water was placed into her good hand. Then Gabriel was already working on rewrapping her injured one. Marinette hadn’t seen where the water had come from, and she didn’t understand how Gabriel kept moving so quickly. She just drank, grateful that soon the horrid blues and purples of her swollen fingers would be hidden away. They didn’t look any better than they had that first day she’d punched the television. If anything, her hand looked worse now.

“You know,” Gabriel spoke up quietly, “if you would start eating, your body would actually be able to heal. You won’t get better if you don’t give yourself any energy to heal with.”

The reminder of Gabriel’s poisoned food caused Marinette to tense. Shakily, she set the cup, and the remaining water left in it, down on the counter beside herself. 

What a stupid thing of Gabriel to say. If he really wanted to heal her, then he should have tried making a Lucky Charm to use the Miraculous Ladybug healing power. Even though the thought of him using her miraculous was nauseating to Marinette, and she knew that that wasn’t _technically_ how the magic of her powers worked, still, he could _try._ In fact, Gabriel could probably just make an akuma with the power to heal her. They didn’t have to be used for evil. He just wouldn’t do it because he didn’t actually care about whether Marinette was healed or not. He only cared about tricking her into eating the poison, and Marinette would not fall for it. No matter how elaborate his tricks. 

Gabriel moved on from wrapping her hand, reaching over to pick up the lavender t-shirt that had been left folded on the counter. Marinette perked up from the wall as he held it out—though she didn’t recall slumping back against it in the first place. The shirt was fairly simple, she could see now, but it still had subtle style with its scoop neck and three-quarter sleeves. The color was the same as her shorts, that same soft lavender, though it lacked the pattern of butterflies.

But it did have Gabriel’s name embroidered inside the collar in place of a tag. 

Before she’d lost her miraculous, Marinette had always dreamed of owning authentic clothing from the Gabriel brand.

She really was the foolish one. 

This time she lifted her arms without being told, and Gabriel pulled the shirt on over her head, the cotton startlingly soft against her icy skin. It fit perfectly. Just like everything else he’d put on her.

But as soon as the shirt was on, cold metal clamped down around her wrists. Nooroo, having appeared out of nowhere, again, was working alongside Gabriel to swiftly reattach Marinette’s manacles and chains to their rightful place snug against her skin. Marinette was left too stunned to do anything about it, staring in dismay at not just the two long chains that seemed to go on forever, but the short one that bound her wrists together in front of her stomach like handcuffs. The one that sent searing aches through her shoulders from the never ending pull. 

She couldn’t do this again. 

“W-Wait,” she croaked, fighting against tears to maintain her composure. “Please, I-I won’t…”

“Run away?” Gabriel provided.

Marinette’s bottom lip quivered. 

“Then it won’t make a difference to you to keep them on,” he asserted. 

But he was wrong. It did make a difference. 

Marinette tried so badly to keep her crying to a minimum as she choked out, “It hurts.” 

Gabriel paused, staring at her firmly. “Well then maybe you should have thought about that before attempting to run away barely an hour ago.”

That was…a solid point. 

Marinette didn’t know why she was even trying to defend herself. She knew she didn’t deserve it. But she also didn’t know what she would do if her shoulders had to take on such an immense strain again. 

“I…I’m sorry,” she sniffled. And she really was. She was sorry that she’d ever thought she could overpower Gabriel Agreste. That she’d ever thought she could beat Hawk Moth. “I’m sorry. P-Please, just f-for my shoulders. It—It hurts. I’m _sorry—_ ” 

Her pleas were cut off by a long, dramatic sigh from Gabriel. 

He stared at her for another prolonged moment before finally speaking.

“Nooroo,” he called to the kwami floating beside him, though he did not take his analyzing gaze off of Marinette. 

“Yes, Master?” 

“Remove the short chain.” 

Marinette watched Nooroo’s small eyes widened in surprise. Clearly Gabriel was not often prone to changes of heart. Although, he was certainly prone to taking risks, Marinette knew that well. This must have been one big gamble to him. He didn’t actually care about her pain.

The little kwami flew down to Marinette’s hands, sprinkling magic over wrists, fulfilling Gabriel’s order. The tension in Marinette’s shoulders dissipated almost instantly as the short chain was unlocked and taken away. She was still bound to the yellow room, of course, by the long chains on each wrist that led all the way to under the bed, but at least now her arms would be free to move around again. Maybe it would even allow her enough comfort to finally fall asleep. All she wanted was to sleep. 

“And you say?” Gabriel prompted, shattering her moment of relief. 

Marinette swallowed hard and leaned back against the wall as a new wave of exhaustion overcame her. 

Barely meeting his gaze, she murmured, “Th-Thank you, sir.” 

“That’s right.” 

He didn’t even have to threaten her with the consequences of what would happen if she screwed this up by trying another stupid escape plan. She could imagine them pretty clearly for herself. 

For a while longer, she remained sitting on the countertop in front of Gabriel as he finished grooming her. He clipped her nails so she could no longer scratch him, and gave her soft lotion to put on her face.

Meanwhile the counter beneath Marinette’s legs chilled her to the bone. Even with her newly acquired t-shirt. 

“Cold,” she sniffled. Though she hadn’t really meant to say it. It was just all she could think about. 

“Then start sleeping in your bed instead of the floor and you won’t be.” 

Gabriel sounded agitated. 

Marinette didn’t say anything more, trying only to sit as still as she could while Gabriel continued on, combing her hair, and then blow drying it. Marinette wasn’t very good at sitting still. She flinched much of the way, and although she did find herself pleasantly warmed by the hot air from the blow dryer, she also found that the sound was much more terrifying than she ever recalled it being. It was loud and aggressive, and there were about a hundred and one ways Gabriel could hurt her with the device if he wanted to. 

But as the minutes wearily ticked on, he seemed to refrain. He simply dried her hair as if it were a completely ordinary act of him to do, until eventually he turned it off and spoke to her again. 

“Alright. You’re finished.”

Slowly, Marinette blinked, looking up to him with uncertainty. Those words… 

_“It’s over, Hawk Moth. You're finished—”_

The details of the memory were hazy, but, no… Marinette didn’t want to think about that. 

“You can go back to your room,” Gabriel clarified when she made no move to get up. 

Not wanting to upset him again, Marinette slowly slipped herself off from the countertop, planting her unsteady feet on the floor. At the very least it was easier than getting up. 

With no further instruction from Gabriel, Marinette began the journey back to her spot under the window. Her balance and strength were depleted, and she was confined to walking only along the wall, leaning against it heavily for support. She entered the yellow room, and the window was getting closer—but the blood she had spilled on the floor from her nosebleed was gone. Marinette could almost taste the dreams waiting for her in her spot under the window. She didn’t care anymore if they turned out to be nightmares again. She was desperate just to grant her eyes the pleasure of being closed. 

Only a few feet remained between Marinette and her spot when Gabriel’s voice barked suddenly from behind her. 

“What have I said about sleeping on the floor?”

Marinette paused her steps. 

She didn’t turn around to face Gabriel. 

“Bed. Now.” he was quick to reiterate.

But Marinette was frozen in place, unable to take another step towards the window due to overwhelming fear, yet unable to turn towards the bed because—because she _couldn’t_ sleep in that bed again. It wasn’t right. That yellow bed belonged to her kidnapper, not her, and to sleep in it voluntarily would have been like—truly accepting her fate. Which, technically, she had sort of just done, but, there was still no way she could go so far as to sleep in that bed.

Not knowing what else to do, Marinette remained right where she was, hunched into the wall as a hiccuping sob tore from her throat. More sobs followed, and soon racking cries were flying from her lips, releasing a despair as grounded in her as roots were to the earth itself.

Amidst her own commotion, Marinette did not realize that she had lost sight of her surroundings until a pair of rough hands gripped her shoulders from in front of her and her eyes bolted open, her vision smeared with tears. Marinette tried to squirm away from Gabriel, crying louder. Or perhaps she was just screaming at this point. It was hard to tell the difference anymore. 

“Marinette, _calm down_.”

Fear would not let her. 

“ _Marinette._ ”

Suddenly the bottom of her feet were no longer touching the ground. Gabriel’s arms were wrapped around her, one across her back, the other beneath her thighs, and Marinette realized jarringly that he had picked her up like a child, holding her close to his chest. Her arms had already gripped around his neck for stability on their own instinct. 

“Enough screaming,” Gabriel uttered quietly against her hair.

His hold was sturdy. It wasn’t at all like earlier when he’d haphazardly tossed her over his shoulder to take her to the bathtub.

This was almost, dare she say…comfort. 

Sobs poured out from Marinette uncontrollably, and she buried her face into Gabriel’s shoulder, gripping onto him with what strength she could. Perhaps if it were another day, she would have tried to pry herself away from him. But she was certain that if she fell to the floor right now, she would break every bone in her body. 

From how Gabriel was holding her, Marinette could feel the bump of his tie pressing against her. The Butterfly Miraculous had to be right there beneath it, right within her reach. It called to her.

And if she were to steal it, she knew Gabriel would only steal it right back. 

Between the time it would take for her to transform with Nooroo and akumatize Gabriel, Gabriel would have already kicked her ass into next week. Perhaps even literally, with how hard his drugs hit her. So Marinette ignored the faint pull of the miraculous’s magic as Gabriel began walking with her in his arms, no doubt headed towards the bed like he wanted. He was probably going to chain her to it again. He would force her to sleep on it. That’s what he did before. 

But then Gabriel was sitting down, on the side of the bed, on top of the comforter. 

Marinette was still in his arms. 

Her legs folded under herself on either side of Gabriel’s lap as he sat down, her wet cheek still pressed against his shoulder. Pulling away from him wasn’t an option. Marinette knew she wouldn’t be able to break free from the deceivingly secure grip his arms had around her back. 

She wished she would just disappear. 

His careful fingers stroked through her hair. Marinette hated it. It felt exactly like how Chat did it, when he visited her in her room. Or even sometimes when she was Ladybug, when the two of them would laze off during quiet patrols. 

For her sanity, Marinette imagined that the fingers in her hair now were his. Because being held like this, having her broken body cradled so gently—it felt like the only thing keeping her alive. 

“Why do you refuse to sleep in your own bed?” Gabriel asked, his voice not much louder than a whisper. 

Marinette wiped her cheek with the back of her good hand, keeping her face hidden in his shoulder. “B-Because—”

“It’s not proper to talk into your hands, Marinette.”

A sigh of exasperation left her lips. She raised her head, sitting back in his lap as far as his secure grip would let her, while placing her left hand on his shoulder for support. 

With her right hand back in bandages, she couldn’t grab anything with it. 

She really was useless. 

“Because,” Marinette tried again with a snuffle, “because it’s not _my_ bed.”

Gabriel stared at her with an almost dumbfounded expression. Almost. “Of course it’s your bed.” 

He reached over to the nightstand beside them and grabbed a tissue from the box that until now had sat untouched. Gabriel held the tissue in front of her, like an offer. Just like he’d done before with his handkerchief. Marinette knew from experience that in reality he was silently instructing her to wipe up her mess of a face. Only this time she prayed that he would provide her with a different fate. 

She let go of his shoulder, so woozy that she completely relied on Gabriel’s grip to keep her sitting upright while she wiped away her river of tears. The tissue didn’t stop more from falling. But at least the steady flow had calmed down a bit. 

Realizing tear stains were left behind where her cheek had touched his shirt, she sniveled, “S-Sorry…”

Gabriel dismissed her with a small nod. “You’re exhausted. You should go back to sleep.” 

Marinette couldn’t decide if that was a suggestion or a threat of needles. 

She glanced over to the window behind her. To the spotless floor below it. “I-I was going to, but you—”

“In your _bed_. Properly.” 

Marinette’s face contorted. She couldn’t sleep in this bed, but there was nothing she could say against it either. There was nothing she could do. 

Gabriel’s hand landed gently on the back of her hair, guiding her head back to his shoulder again before her tears could escalate back into sobs, holding her in the way she knew he never held his own son anymore. And at that moment, the very last drop of Marinette’s strength disappeared. She practically collapsed against Gabriel, barely able to even keep her eyes open. Just wanting to be held by someone. Just wanting this to end. She knew this was dangerous, but she had no stamina left to care. 

Then Gabriel shifted, and his feet swung onto the bed so that he was sitting up against the headboard with his legs resting on top of the comforter and Marinette tucked in his arms. Like how she used to lay on her parents when she was little. Like how she dogpiled with her friends at slumber parties. Her dad gave the best bear hugs. 

Now Marinette’s eyes were beginning to fall shut every time she blinked them open. She could feel Gabriel’s clothes against the bare skin of her legs. She didn’t want to feel it. But his body heat was warm. Everything she’d thought she’d understood about right and wrong was getting more and more scrambled with every blink of her eyes. She couldn’t understand why everything she did always ended up as the worst choice. 

She didn’t know if she was still falling. Or if this was the aftermath of her burns. 

All she knew now, all she wanted to know, was that lying there, warm in someone’s arms, was the nicest she’d felt since being imprisoned in the yellow room.

But she couldn’t fall asleep just yet. Somewhere, behind layers deep in her mind, a tiny whisper still urged her that the situation was unsafe, that she needed to get away. The whisper happened to sound an awful lot like Chat Noir. 

“Just go to sleep, Marinette,” Gabriel said, chasing away the voice. “It’s alright.”

Why did Gabriel always have to lie. Why did he always find a way to make his lies true. 

“It’s not alright,” Marinette whimpered into his shirt. His fingers were still petting her hair, she realized. Maybe they had never stopped. 

“Yes, it is,” Gabriel spoke firmly. “It’s alright.”

Marinette wouldn’t be able to fight her dreams away for much longer. But she was scared, she wasn’t sure that she’d wake up. 

“I was supposed to be a hero,” she whispered. 

Gabriel sighed. “I know.” 

Marinette could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. His tranquil pets were dragging her further and further towards slumber. 

“But now it’s time for you to sleep, Marinette.”

With her eyelids too heavy to hold open anymore, Marinette let her lashes flutter shut.

“…What if I don’t wake up?” she murmured. 

“Don’t be silly, of course you’ll wake up.”

Gabriel’s arms were ridiculously warm. How was someone so evil capable of being so warm. It wasn’t fair. 

Or maybe Marinette was looking at it all wrong. Maybe it was her. 

Maybe she was just the hero who had fallen to ice. 

“Please…” Her breath was shallow as the steady darkness of slumber drew her in. “P-Please don’t hurt me…Hawk Moth…sir…”

His fingers continued stroking steadily through her hair.

❖❖❖

“Wait, hold on, I think I left my homework upstairs in my room.”

Adrien watched the back of his bodyguard’s head from the backseat of their car, waiting for some sort of approval to go back into the house and get it. Luckily they hadn’t pulled out of the driveway yet. 

His bodyguard gave a curt nod, and not a moment later, Adrien hopped out of the car and was already jogging back in through the large front doors of the mansion. The school lunch hour was almost over, but if he moved quickly enough, then he would just be able to make it back to class in time. 

All morning long Adrien had been counting down to Master Fu’s arrival at the airport. There was only a couple of hours left to go. But Adrien had been focusing a bit _too_ much on the countdown, and consequently, the little things kept completely slipping his mind. Like for example, all of his homework. At least he’d finished it. That alone was a substantial feat considering his state of mind. 

As he shuffled through the mansion, up towards his room, he just really hoped it wouldn’t make him late. 

Adrien made a beeline for his desk upon entering his bedroom, finding the sneaky papers right there on the tabletop where he’d left them. Without wasting any precious seconds, he stuffed them into his school bag and all but raced out of his room. 

All but. 

His father had a thing about running in the house. 

Adrien was only a few steps away from _fast walking_ down the stairs again when a pair of voices reached his ears. They sounded like they were coming from the ground floor, near the bottom of the staircase. 

“—and Adrien has already gone back to school for the day?”

His father.

“Yes, sir. He just left with his bodyguard.”

And Nathalie.

Adrien’s heart began pounding and he ducked behind the nearest corner, pressing his back flat against the wall so he wouldn’t be seen by either of them. Adrien wasn’t quite sure _why_ he felt the sudden need to hide—it wasn’t like it was a crime to be in the house a little late for the sake of grabbing his homework, it might earn him a stern look maybe, but Adrien wasn’t doing anything _bad_. Yet for some reason he couldn’t explain, the hairs on the nape of his neck had him hiding behind the corner anyway.

“Good,” he heard his father reply to Nathalie, his voice faintly echoing across the vast emptiness of the house. “Make sure he’s ready for this afternoon’s appearance—”

“Oh, sir,” Nathalie interrupted. “You’ve got some blood on the back of your shirt.”

Adrien choked on his breath. 

A dark chill filled his veins. 

His father was hurt. Why was his father hurt. 

“You should change too before the broadcast, sir,” said Nathalie, though she didn’t sound alarmed at all about announcing the blood on his father’s shirt. The _blood._

Unable to stop himself, Adrien peeked around the corner just enough to see Nathalie and his father standing on the marble stairs, only a couple steps up from the floor. Gabriel was peering over his shoulder, tugging on the waist of his shirt, clearly trying to see whatever blood Nathalie was referring to. Adrien couldn’t see the blood for himself from so far away, but with a start, he realized that his father wasn’t dressed like he had been this morning when he’d come to talk to Adrien at breakfast. Every day his father dressed from head to toe in full suits of his latest fashion, and this morning had been no different. But right now he was only wearing slacks, and a dress shirt and tie. He had no vest on. No sweater. No high-thread count blazer. Just a shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Adrien couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen his father in such casual attire.

Down at the bottom of the stairs, Gabriel untwisted himself and let go of his shirt. “Ugh, it’s Marinette's,” he sighed in mild annoyance. “It must have seeped right through my jacket. She did have quite the nosebleed, didn’t she.” 

Gabriel resumed walking up the stairs with Nathalie at his heels while all the air in Adrien’s lungs vanished. 

It was…Marinette’s blood. But that wasn’t possible. That would mean his father had found Marinette. That his detectives had found her. 

—His detectives had _found her._

“Well, sir, her body’s weak,” Nathalie replied. Adrien could only imagine. “It’s been days since Marinette has eaten. And you’ve been…particularly rough with her, sir.”

Adrien cocked his head. 

Rough…?

But his father had saved Marinette, he wouldn’t need to be… No… It didn’t make sense. His father wouldn’t… 

Maybe it was just bad phrasing.

“Well don’t look at me like it’s _my_ fault she hasn’t eaten,” Gabriel snipped back. “We’ve brought plenty of food up to her room for days now and she’s refused all of it, insisting that it's poisoned.” 

The air had not returned to Adrien’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe. 

_Her room._

“Honestly,” Gabriel lamented on. “Why would I go through all this trouble just to turn around and _poison_ her. It’s absolutely ridiculous.”

Adrien couldn’t feel his fingers. There was a ringing in his ears. He could see his hands gripped tightly onto the strap of his school bag, but he couldn’t feel them. “Plagg—” 

His kwami was hiding away inside his unzipped school bag, and Plagg’s bulging eyes were staring back at Adrien with a startled horror that Adrien had never seen from the kwami before, only confirming the thought that he did not dare even think. 

“P-Plagg,” Adrien whispered again, desperation spilling out of his hushed voice. But the kwami did not move an inch. His eyes had turned and locked onto a small purple dot floating beside Gabriel’s head, just visible from this far up the staircase. 

Although Adrien could no longer remember how to breathe, he understood. 

He understood everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello readers, it's been a hot minute! I know in the last chapter I mentioned this second part "coming soon" and then proceeded to disappear off the face of the earth. Shortly after I posted that chapter, I had some chaotic changes occur in my life that left me without any free time to write. But finally, I've returned to you! 
> 
> Going forward, updates will probably not be on a set schedule, but my goal is to continue as I can. This story is far from over! 
> 
> <3


	13. Crystal Ball

For a moment, Adrien tuned out everything else around him, every other atom in the universe irrelevant, as he focused only on quieting his galloping breath with his back pressed up against the cold wall.

His father’s footsteps grew louder with their every increase up the staircase alongside Nathalie’s, and as Adrien unflustered his breath, the sting of his father’s voice began to pierce through to his ears once more. 

“–the only thing in her food is _nutrients._ God forbid she eats one vitamin,” Gabriel complained flamboyantly.

Nathalie in return sounded exhausted, as if she’d already heard this speech a hundred times before. “I understand your frustration, sir, but I do think you should find a way to explain to Marinette that it’s not actually poisoned. She’s going to be in real danger if she doesn’t eat something soon.”

“I know,” Gabriel grudgingly agreed, expressing a sort of exhaustion of his own. “She nearly passed out just now during her bath. All that struggling against getting undressed really tired her out, she was barely conscious in the tub.”

From the top of the staircase, Adrien bit down into his fist. It was the only way to keep himself quiet lest the unimaginable rage boiling in his chest pour out. Lest his shaking tears spill from his lashes.

He had to keep himself together.

If he gave any indication whatsoever that he was aware of his father’s sick secrets, then Adrien would never find Marinette. Because this wasn’t just his father anymore. This was… No, Adrien couldn’t say the cursed name even in his head. But regardless, he was certain that his father would never voluntarily reveal Marinette’s location to him. Whether he was Adrien or Chat Noir. 

Listening and following was the only way to get to her.

Just for a moment longer, Adrien had to not react. He had to do what Ladybug would do. He had to assess the entire situation. He had to breathe. He had to _listen._

“My point exactly, sir,” Nathalie said flatly at Gabriel’s recount of Marinette’s supposed bath. 

Her _bath._ That Adrien’s father spoke of as if he’d been _present_ for it.

Adrien bit down harder into his fist, only deepening the canine-shaped dents in his skin.

“Oh would you relax,” the devil himself rolled off his tongue. “I’ll get her to eat.”

“Of course you will, sir,” Nathatlie replied with a blatant lack of faith.

“I _will_. I was already able to get her cleaned up and settled down for a nap. And in her bed for once, I might add.”

Adrien could hear the poised stoicism in Nathalie’s face as she replied, “I saw.”

“So getting her to eat won’t be much harder now,” said Gabriel. “Frankly it’s like having a toddler all over again: Eat. Bath. Nap. Certainly nothing I can’t handle.”

“Marinette isn’t a toddler, sir.”

Gabriel scoffed. “With the tantrums she throws she may as well be.”

By now the pair of voices were coming from at least halfway up the tall staircase, and Adrien retreated backwards as carefully as he could in order to not draw even a hair of attention his way as he maintained a position just out of their view.

“Although…” Gabriel continued to ponder, “I don’t believe her tantrums will be much of a problem anymore.”

Nathalie seemed slightly confused. “No?” 

The sound of their footsteps paused. In their place, Gabriel’s voice echoed hauntingly across the hall. “No. She’s finally cracked.”

What disturbed Adrien’s stomach so vilely about the statement was not just the horror of his father’s words, but the sheer evil that had so suddenly flowed into his voice. As naturally as if he were speaking to an akuma.

“That stubborn spirit of hers has finally been broken,” Gabriel continued. “She’s submitted.”

Nathalie was silent for a moment. Adrien was too much a coward to look at her face, his heart clenching painfully. 

Marinette wouldn’t… No… Unless his father had really forced her hand so cruelly. But could he have? Was it even possible?

When Nathalie spoke again a good half-minute later, all she said was, “I see.” And after another elongated pause, “I guess that explains why I walked in to see such a…cozy nap.”

As quickly as the sinister tone had come into his father’s voice, it vanished completely and he retorted defensively, “She’s too weak to be safely sedated anymore, I had to get her to sleep in her bed somehow.” 

“And so rather than simply restraining her to her bed again, your solution was to ‘cradle’ her to sleep, sir?”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his fingers under his glasses. “It’s my _heartbeat,_ Nathalie. Marinette wouldn’t quit all that tortuous crying, and although she didn’t realize it, my heartbeat is what finally calmed her down. Emilie and I used to do the same with Adrien. It lulls them right to sleep.”

The sound of his mother’s name and his own spoken in—in _his_ voice, felt like stabs to Adrien’s chest. That voice that terrorized Paris through the most delicate of butterflies. That voice that communicated only through whispers and rage and darkness. And here it was, right down the hall, speaking the sacred name of Adrien’s mother loud and clear. 

All this time—could it have really been Hawk Moth’s blood running through Adrien’s veins? Could it really be that same heartbeat who was cradling Marinette now?

Nathalie replied to Gabriel, her tone only mildly concerned, “So now Marinette’s, what—a newborn?”

“She’s a _child,_ ” Gabriel answered with agitation. “She’s a child whose mind is so broken right now that she only responds to her basic instincts. I need her to learn to sleep in the bed without being chained to it, to sleep in the bed simply because _I say so._ And so I gave her what she wanted. A bit of positive reinforcement, you could say.”

“Gabriel…”

His expression sharpened. “I can mold her, Nathalie. Marinette is capable of much greater magic than meets the eye. I can train her the way I want and cultivate that power for myself, but I have to play my cards strategically. She won’t just tell me what I want to know. If I want to get inside her mind then I need to start from the bottom up. First I need to recalibrate her.”

Adrien’s stomach gurgled in warning, and he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, praying to the heavens above that the noise wasn’t loud enough for the two standing on the staircase to overhear. Although upon touching his lips, Adrien found them wet with tears he hadn’t remembered shedding.

“So…” Nathalie contemplated, “you want her to live off your every word without question?”

“If all goes well, precisely. I can tame them. Both of them.”

Adrien’s stomach churned with an even greater force as the pair of footsteps resumed their pace up the stairs, and Adrien was only able to catch glimpses of their conversation through his nausea as the pair turned off towards his father’s office. 

“—so, what’s the update on the police search for my clean little bug?” his father’s voice asked. “Any heads turned our way?”

“Not one, sir.”

Well, there certainly was one now. 

Sweat rolled down Adrien’s forehead as his father chuckled with a wicked amusement. “They’re so incompetent.” 

Breathe. Adrien tried to breathe. Through the ache in his chest, through his tears. But then the next thing he knew, the conversation in front of his father’s office doors had already completely changed route, their words stumbling around senselessly in Adrien’s head. “Nathalie, be a dear and fetch me a coffee. I’ve got the designs for Miss Nightingale’s upcoming tour—” And then the office door closed fully behind them with a thump and a click, cutting off Adrien from their conversation entirely. Which was fine for Adrien, who at that same moment, pivoted on his heels and ran straight for the private bathroom inside his bedroom where he lived an unfortunate experience over the toilet, his stomach emptying itself of seemingly everything it possibly could—meanwhile his mind was a hurricane of puzzle pieces, all falling together like the formation of the cosmos in the blink of an eye. 

If his father was truly, truly the villain he appeared to be, then with just this one identity, it explained why Hawk Moth had started terrorizing Paris only right after Adrien’s mother had disappeared. And why his father never made public appearances anymore, why he never left the house. It explained why his father had become so much colder in attitude. And why Gabriel Agreste had been akumatized the exact same day—within _minutes_ now that Adrien thought about it—of Ladybug guessing that it was he who was behind Hawk Moth’s mask. 

It explained why his father had gone so completely out of his way to make sure the public knew of his ‘support’ in helping find Marinette. Like at breakfast just that morning. Adrien’s father never spoke to him at breakfast anymore.

And the identity explained, more sickeningly, more unspeakably than anything else, why Adrien’s mother was gone in the first place. 

It felt like years that Adrien was bent over the toilet. It felt like a second. 

When his stomach had settled enough for him to wash up at the sink and head back into the room, he called out again for Plagg. Adrien found that his gaze kept wandering to the ring on his right hand with an urgency as if it might disappear every time he looked away. A fear in his core as if every time he so much as blinked, he would open his eyes to find that his ring had already been stolen. Which was _impossible_ because Adrien was standing alone in his room with no else in his company except Plagg. No different than any other day. And yet Adrien’s eyes refused to cease their watch of his miraculous. 

“Adrien. _Adrien._ ” 

Plagg was calling out to him. 

Adrien tore his gaze from his hand, looking up to find his kwami floating directly before his eyes.

“Adrien,” Plagg said again in a frenzy. “What do we _do?”_

The ground beneath Adrien’s feet was unstable, set to crumble apart at any second. Adrien wasn’t sure if the mere act of standing was even safe anymore. 

“He can’t know,” Adrien said in a rasp. “He can’t know that _we_ know. It’s way too dangerous. I—I’ll text my bodyguard and tell him I’m sick. That will excuse me from school for the rest of the day and then we’ll have time to search the house without being noticed by anyone.” Adrien’s words flowed unevenly out of his mouth. His voice didn’t feel like his own. His words sounded like Ladybug’s. She was the one who effortlessly came up with plans on the spot, not him. “I mean, Marinette’s got to be here, right? My father said—He said she had a room—”

“Then come on, text your bodyguard already!” Plagg exclaimed, placing Adrien’s cellphone into his hands. “Nooroo’s here! Nooroo’s right here! Adrien—” the kwami faltered, “is Tikki here too?”

Adrien met Plagg’s eyes in a frantic desperation as the ground teetered beneath him. Between the chaos of Marinette going missing and Nino and Alya being granted miraculous, _and_ Hawk Moth threatening Marinette harm, Plagg hadn’t spoken Tikki’s name once. Until now. Adrien felt only more horrible for not considering her himself. “I—I don’t know,” Adrien answered honestly. “She could be here. Maybe? Probably? But—No—My father, there’s no way he’d let Marinette keep her miraculous on. But he wasn’t wearing her earrings just now either, so he’s probably hiding them somewhere. That’s where Tikki would be.” Adrien came to his conclusion decisively, but not without adding, “—I think.”

An unspoken question lingered heavily in the air, weighing down on both of them, though neither Adrien nor Plagg seemed willing to voice it. If Hawk Moth had stolen the Ladybug Miraculous five whole days ago, _then why hadn’t he used it to attack them by now?_ What was stopping him? What was he planning?

What did it mean for Tikki?

Adrien’s body tingled with the need to sprint outside of his bedroom that instant and search the house until he scooped Marinette and her miraculous up in his arms and never let them go. It was physically painful to instead be standing in place as he typed out a muddled message to his bodyguard who was still waiting for him in the car outside.

Adrien looked up to Plagg as he sent the text off and stored his phone away in his pocket. “Okay. We’ve got probably less than a minute before my bodyguard comes in here. Plagg, you go start searching the house for Marinette and Tikki. I’ll deal with my bodyguard. Then I’ll catch up.” Plagg nodded and began to zip off, but then Adrien added, “When you find her—free her, _but don’t let her be seen by my father_. No matter what, we don’t want to cross his path. Not until Marinette’s been taken to safety and you and I can transform again and can face him.” 

“Got it,” the black kwami called before zipping off once more—only to be halted again at the door. 

“And Plagg—”

“ _What._ ”

“Just… Be careful.” 

Adrien expected some sort of snide remark from his kwami in return. But Plagg didn’t say a word. He nodded with a serious expression that was horribly misplaced on his fuzzy, cat-eared head, and then he flew off. 

Not a moment after Plagg vanished through the walls, Adrien’s bedroom door was flung open by one very concerned Nathalie, who was trailed closely behind by one very concerned bodyguard. 

“Adrien, are you alright?” she called, rapidly approaching him, though still kept to her orderly fashion. Adrien stood adrift in the center of the room. He may as well have been lost in an empty desert. 

“I… Um…”

She was asking if he was _alright?_ Nathalie, who was perfectly fine with Hawk Moth torturing Marinette, perfectly fine with making her bleed and breaking her mind, was asking if _Adrien_ was alright? 

His fingers flexed into fists. Open and closed, open and closed. He could feel the bitten dents. He couldn’t feel anything.

“No,” he answered. 

Nathalie frowned, pressing a hand to his forehead. Adrien bit the inside of his cheek to keep from flinching away too harshly at the touch. 

“Your bodyguard told me you were feeling sick,” she said. “You do look awfully pale. And you’re warm.”

Adrien didn’t understand it. How could she act like she _cared_ about him. When she didn’t care about Marinette at all. 

“My—My stomach,” Adrien forced out. “I don’t feel good. I…got sick.”

“Perhaps you should stay home from school for the rest of the day,” Nathalie said, her tone implying more of an already decided plan of action rather than a suggestion. 

Straight to business, like always.

“Oh…” Adrien played along. “Well, I guess so…” It was too easy. With the boiling fury in his chest at the disgust he held for the woman standing before him, appearing disturbed was not something he had to fake. He wondered if the threat of a Cataclysm would be enough to get her to tell him where Marinette was. “But, I have all this homework to turn in—”

“Your bodyguard will hand it in for you,” Nathalie said quickly, sending a brief commanding glance his bodyguard’s way. When she turned her attention back to Adrien, though, she hesitated and her tone uncharacteristically softened. “Adrien, really, get some rest. I know you’ve been worried about your friend, but you can’t let this cost you your own health.”

Adrien stared at her. “I… I didn't mean to—”

“Just try and take a nap,” said Nathalie, “and I’ll have the kitchen bring you some hot soup and medicine.”

Rage. 

That was all Adrien could feel. 

It was all Adrien could think. 

He hated Nathalie in that moment. She was the only person who ever really took care of him and she was betraying him. She'd always been betraying him. Adrien honestly didn’t even know how to hate Nathalie, but he _hated_ her. 

With his face burning, he slowly nodded his head, the movement just barely large enough to be recognizable. 

So within no time at all, as things in this household always moved in a hustle, Nathalie shooed him off to bed and a tray of soup was delivered. Adrien was then left on his own to “rest” and as soon as the cavalry closed the door behind themselves on their way out, Plagg returned to the room. 

But the kwami came alone. And as he flew over to Adrien’s bed an uncertainty knotted his face.

“Adrien…”

“Plagg!” Adrien bolted up from his pillow immediately. “Where are they? Did you find them? Is Marinette okay? Is she hurt?” 

Plagg’s concerning expression worsened. 

“…I don’t know,” the kwami answered meekly. 

Flinging his comforter away, Adrien demanded, “What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I mean, _I don’t know._ They’re not here!” 

“But—” Adrien tugged at his hair. “But that’s impossible. They _have_ to be here. My father said so.”

“I’m telling you, Adrien,” Plagg insisted, “I looked through every room in this place and I couldn’t find either of them anywhere!”

Adrien got up from the bed to pace the room. His first thought was to wonder if Plagg couldn’t find them simply because they were not there to be found. Because Adrien had somehow misinterpreted his father’s conversation. His father wasn’t actually Hawk Moth, and he hadn’t kidnapped Marinette—there was no one hidden anywhere within these walls.

Adrien wanted to believe that so badly. It was a logical conclusion after all. 

But his father’s words were too specific. And Adrien had seen Nooroo with his own two eyes. He had witnessed the blood on his father’s shirt once his father had come up the stairs. 

That man was holding Marinette captive somewhere. And Adrien was going to find it. He was so, so close now. 

Adrien abruptly stopped his pacing. “Well then let’s search again.”

And they did. For the next hour or so, Adrien and his kwami tip-toed throughout the maze of halls and endless rooms of the mansion. They covered every square inch, searching for any sign of Marinette or her earrings or her little kwami. Even rooms that were locked were easily opened by Plagg. But at the end of their search, nothing and no one had been found. It was exactly the same house Adrien knew it to be. The only place Adrien hadn’t checked for himself was his father’s office, but Plagg had flown through the wall for him, peeking inside to report only Nathalie at her desk and Gabriel at his tablet, their heads bent over their respective work just like always. 

“What the hell,” Adrien muttered as he shut his bedroom door behind himself once more, only remembering at the last second to keep from slamming it. His bedroom no longer offered any sort of ease, he found. It only trapped him with all its looming walls.

Plagg flew towards his personal cheese cabinet, offering, “Maybe her room is somewhere else?”

Adrien had considered that too, as dreadful a thought as it was, but… “My father doesn’t _go_ anywhere, though. How could he kidnap her when he never even leaves that stupid office.” 

“Well your father thinks you always stay in your room, but we leave all the time,” Plagg countered. “You know, like, _claws out_.”

Adrien sat down on the side of his bed with a sigh, running the palms of his hands over his face. “Ugh, you’re right. It’s so hard to picture Hawk Moth as someone with miraculous powers besides akumatization, because he’s always too much of a coward to fight us in person. But he probably has super agility and speed just like the rest of us. Which means he can take off whenever he wants. He could be keeping her _anywhere._ ”

Secretly, part of Adrien was relieved that he hadn’t found Marinette living under his own roof. It was a horrible, selfish thought, but it meant he wasn’t actually such a terrible partner that he didn’t notice his Lady suffering right next to him. But that small relief was greatly outweighed by the frustration with himself he felt for never noticing his _father_. What kind of superhero lives with a supervillain and never even notices? Adrien would have to waste even more time now tracking down Marinette while the whole time she would probably be alone and hurting—and starving, according to what Nathalie had said. Though when it came to not trusting the food, Adrien couldn’t blame Marinette. He probably wouldn’t have trusted it either. She was just being smart. Even despite all the horrifying things his father said about reworking her mind and turning her to his side, Marinette clearly wasn’t falling for it to the extent that he claimed if she was refusing to do something as basic as eat.

No matter what, she was still Ladybug. Nobody could take that away from her. 

“We’ll have to wait outside my father’s office window,” Adrien decided. “The glass is tinted from the outside, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll hide nearby and once he takes off as Hawk Moth, we’ll just have to follow him to wherever Marinette is, I guess.”

It was _weird,_ though. His father transforming and zooming around the city seemed to be the only explanation for how he could travel about so secretly, but no one had ever actually seen Hawk Moth out in the open on his own. _Somebody_ would have had to have seen him, and it should have been all over the news whenever it happened. Sure he could probably sneak around at night every now and then, but going outside without ever once being detected by citizens was virtually impossible, especially with the Ladyblog always on the hunt for any blurred picture it could get. 

Adrien’s shattering mind couldn’t make sense of the mess. All this information was too sudden, too fresh. Objectively, figuring out his father’s actions was not that hard for him at all, but figuring out Hawk Moth? Adrien had never been able to do that. Least of all now. Everything was one big lie that made perfect sense and no sense at all. 

What a Hawk Moth thing to do. To wring the hearts out of those under his thumb. 

Plagg bounced nervously around in the air beside Adrien. “What about Master Fu?” the kwami asked, his tiny paw-hands fumbling with a piece of Camembert—though Adrien noticed no bites had been taken out of it. 

That was a first. 

Then the kwami’s words registered with Adrien.

“Shit,” he blurted, sitting up straight. He glanced at his watch, and Adrien realized the Guardian’s plane was arriving in just a few minutes, bringing not only Master Fu but the ingredients for the dream spell. Adrien had completely forgotten about it. And Chat Noir was the one designated to pick Master Fu up from the airport. “This is perfect,” breathed Adrien. “I’ll get Nino and Alya right now, and we can just—do the spell. My father said Marinette was taking a nap right now—we won’t even have to wait until the evening! It’ll be so much easier and way less dangerous than trying to follow him.” 

Plagg perked up considerably at Adrien’s realization, plopping the entire slice of cheese into his mouth in one cartoonish bite.

Adrien took that as a…positive reaction, and within seconds Nino’s number was already dialed on his phone. 

He tapped his foot incessantly as a few agonizingly long rings sounded out, but then soon enough Nino’s voice answered, _“Hey, bro. Did you pick up Master Fu already? I stepped out of class, but you don’t need me and Al till later on right? Is there any news?_ ”

Adrien opened his mouth to respond to Nino’s questions. To answer even one of them. But Adrien found his voice suddenly trapped in his throat. 

How could he possibly begin to explain the discoveries of the last hour. How on earth could he crush his best friend’s positive attitude with such horrid words. 

At least Adrien had had the privilege of throwing up in his own bathroom. Nino was at _school._

“Nino…” Adrien squeezed his eyes shut. 

_“…What is it?”_ Nino asked with apprehension when Adrien failed to voice any thought. _“You’re worrying me again dude. This is your worry voice.”_

Adrien groaned. “Look, I found— I found H—” The name burned his throat like the name of God on a nightcrawler’s tongue. “—I found _him.”_

 _“Master Fu? Well, I mean, I hope so,”_ said Nino. _“Aren’t you picking him up at the airport?”_

“No. No, Nino. I found _him._ As in—like—” Adrien tripped over his own breath, his whole body feeling much too light. “He’s—He’s hiding her, Nino. He’s hurting her.”

The phone line was silent for several seconds. 

“ _…You mean Hawk Moth,”_ Nino’s low voice said from the other end of the line. 

It wasn’t a question. 

Adrien returned with silence of his own. Long moments passed filled with nothing but the static crackles of the phone line. Then slowly, Adrien said, “I’m going to go pick up Master Fu now.” A sharp precision coated his hoarse words. “We’ll all meet at his place as soon as possible. Bring Alya. And don’t be seen by anyone. If anybody tries to talk to you—don’t.” 

_“What—But, if you know where Hawk Moth is then why are we meeting up at Master Fu’s? Won’t you lose him? Adrien, where are you?”_

Adrien shivered. “Trust me. He’s not going anywhere.”

❖❖❖

Three knocks followed by one delayed tap sounded from the front door of Master Fu’s apartment. Adrien set his cup of tea down onto the coffee table before him with numb fingers. The television was still mumbling quietly. Adrien didn’t say a word. He hadn’t since the airport. 

When the Guardian had spotted him hidden outside the front doors of the terminal, Chat Noir had offered a small wave. But upon reaching Chat and reading his face, Master Fu had quickly adjusted to the morbid atmosphere. 

“She was right,” was all Chat said to him, meeting the Guardian with grave, unblinking eyes. “It’s my father.” 

The words had been drowned out to any nearby ears by the growing gusts of wind blowing around them. He hadn’t been able to say anything more. 

Perhaps it was going to rain soon. 

The entire trip back to the apartment was wordless, and once they had arrived it was Plagg who had animatedly recounted their tale. Master Fu had listened with great patience. Adrien had sat hunched over his cup of tea. 

Then Alya and Nino had arrived, sparking yet another limb-flailing conversation with Alya blaring, “You found Hawk Moth! What the hell man! That’s insane! Where’s Marinette!?” and Nino scolding, “Dude, you have _got_ to stop with ominous phone calls. They freak me out.” But as soon as Master Fu had relayed the information to them as well, the theatrics had sobered and tension in the small room had risen astronomically. Adrien hadn’t expected any less. But what he hadn’t counted on, was how easily everyone would go around saying that _name,_ as simply as if they were announcing that the sky was blue. Saying it over and over. _His_ name. Everyone could say it—except Adrien. Ever since the airport, his voice had refused to let him speak at all. 

That conversation had been hours ago, though. As a group they had all decided the best plan was to wait until the evening after all to perform the spell. That way his father would be busy with the interview, and Marinette was most likely to be alone. Now that Adrien was officially “sick” he was free of interview duties—and for all Nathalie knew, confined to his room. Adrien’s father would never notice he was gone. No one from his house ever did. 

Waiting until the evening to perform the spell would also ensure that Marinette was actually asleep, allowing her to dream in the first place. She was weak, after all. 

_“It’s been days since Marinette has eaten.”_

_“She was barely conscious in the tub.”_

Through the haunting voices echoing in Adrien’s mind, it was not a hard leap to assume that Marinette would fall into a deep slumber tonight. 

When it had come to announcing to the group what they’d heard at the staircase, Plagg had indeed mentioned the nosebleed to everyone. But neither he nor Adrien had said any word about the fact that they’d seen the offending blood for themselves. Nor had they made any mention of the bath. Or the ‘getting undressed’ part. 

Marinette didn’t need her every torture exposed to the world. 

So after it had been decided that the spell would be pushed to the evening, the group had then dispersed. Alya and Nino went back to school for the day after a “very long bathroom break” and Adrien had gone back to his room, playing the role of the sick child for Nathalie. He hadn’t been able to stand it for very long, though, and soon he had found himself right back on Master Fu’s floor where he sat now by a window, watching the sky darken.

A second round of knocks came abruptly from the front door. Finally rising to his feet, his mind returning only haphazardly to his body, Adrien crossed the Guardian’s living room to open the door, revealing Alya and Nino in their warm evening coats on the other side.

“Hey, bro,” Nino waved.

“I brought snacks.” Alya thrust out a plastic bag filled to the brim with smaller bags and boxes of chips and cookies and all the wonders that would hardly ever be found in Adrien’s own home. From the top of the bag, a bright orange head popped up with a fudge-coated cookie in its mouth. 

“Hi, Adrien!” it exclaimed.

“Trixx!” Alya scolded. “You can’t eat all the cookies! They’re for Adrien!”

“You said they were for _everyone._ ”

“It’s fine,” Adrien assured. Though his voice was so dry he knew it probably didn’t sound very convincing. Normally he would laugh at the antics of kwamis, but it was like his cheeks had forgotten how to.“Really, it’s fine. Thank you, Alya.” 

She gave him a timid nod, and the three guests and their kwamis entered the apartment, settling down in tight silence into something of a circle atop the large rug covering the floor. 

“Welcome back, welcome back,” Master Fu greeted as he soon came into the room from the kitchen, carrying with him a fresh tray of tea for everyone. But unlike earlier that day, the tray he carried now also contained a few stems and leaves of different plants and flowers, along with an extra ceramic bowl with carvings of the miraculous symbol engraved into its sides. 

Alya eyed the bowl with intrigue. “Will this hurt?” she asked as the Guardian sat down with his tray beside the circle. Alya didn’t sound at all put off by the possibility of pain, she was only curious. 

“Pfff,” Plagg flopped his hands around in the air. “Of course it’s not going to hurt. This is _dream magic._ ”

Nino nodded slowly. “Right… But explain to me again, why exactly are _we_ needed for the spell if Adrien is the only one who can use it to like, visit her.”

“It’s a safety block,” Adrien murmured, staring intensely into his cup of tea again now that he was seated back down. “If someone with bad intentions wanted to track down another person, they can’t just track down anyone. They’d have to know the person’s identity. And they’d have to find willing participants, loved friends of the person whose dreams they want to reach. Like if my— if Hawk Moth learned the spell and wanted to track us down for our miraculous—he couldn’t. He doesn’t know our identities, and so no one could help him cast the spell. It wouldn’t work. But we can track Marinette down. We know her. We want to save her. That’s what the spell is for.”

A splash of green flew around in Adrien’s peripheral vision, though his eyes remained glued to the cup in his hands. 

“Well said, Adrien,” Wayzz praised.

Adrien only stared into the tea. 

Master Fu cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the group. “Alright then, everyone. I will mix the ingredients now. I ask you all to join hands and close your eyes, kwamis in the center, and I need you each to think of Marinette. It could be a fond memory with her, or whatever it is you love most about her.”

“Wait,” Nino blurted. “You mean like, right now?”

Alya elbowed his side, hissing, “ _Yes, now.”_

Trixx chimed in, “No time like the present!”

“But, I still don’t really get it, what do we _do_ —”

Alya hushed him. “Just close your eyes, Nino. And think about Marinette.”

Master Fu chuckled lightly at the group before him. “Yes, do not worry. The magic will guide you all to where your mind needs to be.”

Adrien fidgeted and closed his eyes, but as he did, his heart began to thump uncomfortably in his chest, rapidly gaining speed, and only seconds after a hush fell over the group, he spoke again with his eyes still closed, “…What if I can’t find her?”

“Your chances of finding her are very high, Adrien,” Master Fu assured. “No bond is stronger than that of the Ladybug and Black Cat. Though I must warn you, despite Marinette’s training to be a Guardian, she does not yet know of this spell. It is likely that when you meet she will think it is all truly a dream. That is okay. It matters not if she believes it’s real, it only matters that you learn of her location. And you must do so as quickly as possible. If she wakes, the spell will be broken.”

Adrien groaned. His heart only became more sporadic with the Guardian’s every word. “Way to add the pressure—”

“And one more thing,” Master Fu added, a sudden gravity weighing in his tone. “When you reach her, she will appear in her waking form.” 

Adrien peeked an eye open. “What does that mean?”

He caught just the slightest hesitation in Master Fu’s expression before the Master carefully replied, “However her appearance is in real life, it will be mirrored in the dream. Her clothes, her hair. Nothing will be changed by the spell.” The old man paused for a moment. “I want you to be prepared, Adrien.”

Burning gravel filled Adrien’s throat as he understood Master Fu was trying to say delicately. 

Whatever Hawk Moth had done to Marinette, however he’d hurt her, if it had been done in any visible way…

Adrien swallowed thickly. 

“I’m ready.” 

“Then let us begin.” 

A new hush fell over the small circle of joined hands as eyelids fell shut once more and Master Fu’s calming voice began to softly chant words in a language that Adrien could not decipher. It was an old language of the kwamis that Adrien had heard in glimpses every so often. And although the words of the language held no meaning to his ears, their essence oozed tranquility in a way unlike any language on Earth. 

Amidst their glowing vibrance, joined in by the kwamis themselves, and fueled by the energy he could feel running through the hands he held in each of his own, Adrien thought of his Lady. 

❖❖❖

Broad daylight filled Ladybug’s lungs as she flung herself over the Paris rooftops with her yo-yo, as courageous and free as the wind itself. She did this everyday, but today the sunlight felt so wonderful on her cheeks, below her mask, and the air was so clear up here. She and the city were one entity. It belonged to her. And she belonged to it, in all of its beauty. 

It was after some time of swinging through the endless heights that Ladybug realized there was an object continuously in front of her in the air. Or rather, an object she was following. 

Ladybug blinked against the wind in her eyes. 

It was a butterfly. It fluttered quickly, almost hard to keep up with. 

No, that wasn't right. Not a butterfly—an akuma. But a purified akuma. It wasn’t dangerous anymore, it was white and glowing and beautiful. The sight resonated in Ladybug’s chest, calling her forward to it faster and faster as it soared. And she gave chase. Or at least, she tried to. But suddenly something began pulling on Ladybug with tremendous force, dragging her down to the streets below, away from the beauty of the akuma flying over the rooftops. Without wasting a moment, Ladybug tried casting out her yo-yo again—but her wrists were instead being pulled down by some invisible force, sinking her closer and closer to the ground. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t propel herself back up high again. 

It should have been such an easy thing to do. 

So why was she falling. 

The next thing she knew, she found herself standing with her bare feet on the sidewalk, though she never recalled making impact.

…Bare feet? 

She looked down at her clothes. Her magical spotted suit had disappeared—but she had never asked Tikki to detransform her. And she was sure that she hadn’t already cast a Lucky Charm… 

“Tikki?” Marinette called out. No one seemed to be around. The street was deserted save for her and the purple pajamas on her back that she did not recognize.

“Tikki, come on this isn’t funny,” said Marinette. “Spots on.” 

But the purple shirt on Marinette’s chest did not disappear. Tikki did not respond at all. 

Marinette whirled around, a franticness beginning to creep up inside of her as she realized the buildings around her were starting to fade into white. Buildings couldn’t do that. 

“ _Tikki!_ ” Marinette yelled. All she heard in return was a metallic rattle. Her heart skipped a beat when she looked down at her hands to find them bound in thick metal, each with a chain that went on for as far as the eye could see. And her right hand—it was cloaked in white cloth, like a bandage. Which was bizarre because Marinette hadn’t been hurt. She was a superhero. With superpowers. She didn’t get hurt. 

What akuma would do this—change her clothes and chain her like a prisoner? Make the buildings disappear? The landscape around her was becoming so transparent it was almost gone, she could barely see anything. Marinette didn’t know what she was supposed to do if she couldn’t transform again. How could she defeat a supervillain without superpowers? Where _was_ the supervillain?

Marinette stood around helplessly as the world about her faded entirely, stranding her and her alone in an endless plane of solid white. 

Tears pricked at her lashes. “Tikki,” she sniffled. “Tikki, where’d you go?”

“Marinette!” a distant voice called back. It came from somewhere she couldn’t see. It wasn’t Tikki’s voice. 

Marinette looked all around. There was nothing but endless white in every direction.

“Marinette! Can you hear me?” 

Marinette froze. She knew that voice. Of course she did, she could recognize it anywhere. 

There, standing a far ways away from her, she could see the distant outline of Chat Noir against the white nothingness. He must have come to save her from this akuma. 

“Chat!” she called back to him. “Chat, over here!” 

Relief flooded her lungs, and Marinette began running towards her partner without a second thought. However, as her feet carried her father and farther through this strange ethereal world of white, it slowly dawned on her that no matter her efforts, Chat Noir wasn’t getting any closer. With every step she took, it was if he took one away as well. And he didn’t seem to be able to hear her. 

But his far-off voice still called to her. “Marinette! Are you here?”

Marinette felt like Dorothy trapped in the Wicked Witch’s castle, crying out to Auntie Em in the crystal ball—the face in the crystal right there, yet unable to see her, unable to hear her cries.

“Chat, please!” she shouted. “Help me!” 

Marinette found that she didn’t seem to care that she was detransformed as she continued to run towards him. He was calling her real name anyway, he wasn’t looking for Ladybug. Her identity was safe. And perhaps he knew something more about why this was happening or where the buildings had gone. While she had been busy losing her miraculous and getting chained, Chat Noir had probably been doing something useful. 

“Marinette!” his voice echoed.

“Chat, I’m right here! _Chat!_ ” An overwhelming panic was taking over her body. She was afraid of something, she realized, something more than just these chains or of not being able to transform. There was something else pulling at her heart, something she should _know._ But she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. She just knew, with more urgency than anything else, that she needed to get to Chat Noir. 

And then suddenly she was standing right before him. 

She had no explanation as to how she’d crossed the distance in an instant, but somehow, she had reached him. 

But he was facing away from her. 

With a start, Marinette noticed that he wasn’t transformed. He was wearing jeans, and there were no triangular black ears fastened to his hair. She still knew he was her partner, of course, his voice was unmistakable. She could sense his presence, even from afar. It was him. 

So why wouldn’t he turn around and face her. 

“Chat,” she called again to the back of his shirt, her voice reduced to a breathless murmur.

As if she’d finally spoken the correct magic word, he turned around. 

But it wasn’t Chat Noir staring back at her. It wasn’t Chat Noir at all. 

It was… Adrien. 

His eyes were wide, glowing wildly, locked into hers.

“Marinette?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel Agreste, frantically flinging gummy vitamins at all the kids he's found himself responsible for: HEAL


End file.
